


Hard Sun

by jibberjabber13



Series: A Rose by Any Other Name [5]
Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental Health Issues, Recovery, References to Depression, Relapsing, Relationship Issues, Romance, Social Anxiety, Therapy, shane-typical angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-05-20 20:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 66,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14901741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jibberjabber13/pseuds/jibberjabber13
Summary: In four seasons, Shane’s life changed irreversibly. He fell in love with the farmer who moved into town, began putting his life back together, and dug himself out of the deepest hole he’d ever sunk into.But as he enters into a new relationship with the farmer, Shane discovers that recovery isn’t always linear and that, at its core, real love takes work and understanding.





	1. A Sleepless Night

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is a continuation of a short series I wrote based around Shane's relationship with the farmer character. For the most part, it will be able to stand on its own so that new readers can jump in right away. However, reading the previous four little stories will help give a bit more background and information on the characters if you're interested in that at all. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy this story!

Shane stumbled out of the small, wood-sided farmhouse just after two in the afternoon, squinting into the sunlight. He held up a hand to his forehead to shield his eyes, which were still heavy and swollen from sleep. 

“Hey.” A female voice greeted him warmly, and she bounded up to him. The watering can in her left hand jostled as she moved. Reaching the top of the steps, she reached forward to place a kiss on his lower cheek, where a smattering of stubble covered his skin. “Finally awake, huh?”

Shane just nodded in response. She stepped back, observing him. He was still in his pajamas, a plain gray t-shirt and red flannel pants. His face, he knew, looked exhausted, and he was certain he had dark circles under his eyes.

“Bad day?” she asked, tilting her head. The long, brown braid down her back moved slightly as she did so.

“Yeah,” he mumbled and stared down at his hands. They were shaking. Again. He cleared his throat and willed himself to look up at her. “Do you need any help with the chickens today, Rose?”

She laughed. It was a small sound, but enough to make Shane’s lips quirk upwards—just a little bit. “Of course,” she said. “They’ve been waiting for you.”

“Okay,” he said. “Give me a minute.”

He turned and walked back inside the farmhouse, rubbing his jaw and feeling the rough forming of a beard. As he pulled on athletic shorts and his ratty Joja hoodie, he told himself he was going to shave it. Then again, he told himself a lot of things. _Get yourself together, you piece of shit_ was a common one. Today was no exception.

When he reemerged from the house, Rose had busied herself with watering the crops; this year, she’d planted strawberries and cauliflower. Spring had finally arrived, bringing with it the promise of new life as beautiful flowers and plants bloomed in the valley. They made Shane’s nose itch, and he reached a hand up to rub it.

As Rose puttered around the farm, Shane watched her with a soft look on his face. Since the end of winter, he’d entered into a tentative new relationship with the farmer, someone who had been a stranger just a year ago. She moved to the valley the previous spring, this quiet and unassuming girl, and had completely stolen his heart in every cliche sense of the phrase. 

She looked up and smiled at him, the corners of her blue eyes crinkling. He gave her an awkward wave, which made her grin even wider, and Shane wondered how he’d gotten so lucky.

He also wondered how long it would be before he screwed everything up.

Entering the chicken coop, Shane found himself mobbed by the seven chickens and lone duck that resided on Rose’s farm. He bent down and scratched each one of the animals on the head before getting up to see if they needed to be fed. They didn’t. Rose had already taken care of it. Of course she had, she lied to spare his feelings. Shane frowned, self-loathing washing over him as he realized he’d woken up too late. 

Recently, he’d been staying up late and sleeping in even later, finding it difficult to rouse himself in the morning. Some days, he spent hours staring up in his room in Marnie’s ranch at that stark white ceiling, wanting nothing more than to disappear for a while. The cracks in the ceiling made paths that he followed over and over again.

On the weekends, he went to see Rose and tried his hardest to be outside when the sun came up, just as she was. Sometimes, he even slipped out of bed before her and watered some of the crops or visited the animals. On that particular Sunday, though, he had spent the night prior tossing and turning next to her before getting up to pace through the kitchen of the farmhouse. Rose would be mad at him for interrupting her sleep. He was sure of it.

She came into the kitchen, rubbing her eyelids. She wasn’t mad. 

“Shane?” she said, voice soft, calming. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” he said, too quickly. “Totally fine.”

Rose walked towards him, slipping her hands in his. The pressure of her palms slowly eased the trembling. “Come back to bed.”

Shane shook his head. “I can’t sleep. Don’t want to wake you.”

She said nothing. She was like that, never wanting to fill silences with unneeded words. Instead, she pulled him in for a kiss, long and deep. When he pulled away, she sighed, then looked up at him from under her eyelashes. 

“Fine,” he said, rubbing his thumb over her shoulder. There was a scar on her bare skin, a slash from when she’d been exploring in the mines over the winter. He’d taken her to the hospital the night it happened, and the bruises took several weeks to heal. But the scar remained. “I’ll come back to bed.”

He returned to bed and slept until the afternoon, comforted by her presence next to him. 

However, it didn’t help his mood much the next day. Shane could feel his thoughts growing darker as he scattered more feed for the chickens, desperate to do something that didn’t make him feel so useless.

She came up behind him a short while later, placing a hand on his back. He jumped. 

“It’s just me,” she said. “I’m…” She looked down at the ground and nudged a stray piece of straw with her foot.

“What is it?” Shane said. 

“Worried,” she said, kicking harder at the ground. 

“Worried?” Shane felt his chest tighten. This was it. He was ruining everything. The only thing beautiful and magical and special about his life was about to be ground to dust because he was a stupid—

She placed a hand on his arm. He relaxed. “Yes, about you. You…don’t sleep. I can tell.”

“Yeah,” he said with a sigh. “I’ve been having trouble with that lately.”

Rose frowned. “I wish I could help. Somehow.”

“You do,” Shane said as he brushed a piece of her hair behind her ear. “More than you know.”

* * *

He returned home to Marnie’s ranch in the evening, just as the sun dipped below the horizon, blazing the skies of the valley in various oranges and pinks. To Shane, it was the nicest time of day. Often, he’d sit on the docks and watch the sunset, but he never told anyone about it, preferring to save that moment for himself.

His goddaughter, Jas, greeted him the moment he walked through the door, bursting out of her room to give him a hug. He scooped her up and twirled her around before setting her down.

“Hey, kid,” he said. “Miss me?”

She nodded, grin spreading across her face. “Look what I drew,” she said. 

Jas shoved a drawing on yellow construction paper towards Shane. He picked it up and examined it. In the center stood three figures: Shane was on the left, holding Jas’s hand, and to his right was a girl with a braid in her hair. Rose. She was holding his other hand. Jas labeled the picture at the top, ‘Uncle Shane and Miss Rose.’ Underneath the trio, she’d written, ‘My new Mom and Dad.’

As he’d been staring at the drawing, mouth open, Jas had seated herself at the kitchen table and began scribbling on another piece of paper. The purple crayon in her hands traced big, swirling lines. 

“I’m glad you got better, Uncle Shane,” she said idly. “Now you can marry Miss Rose and live happily ever after.”

Got better. Shane supposed that’s what he had done. It didn’t feel much like it, though. Not when he still felt like a useless sack of chicken feed and hated his job and thought he didn’t deserve Rose or Jas or Marnie or anyone in his life, really.

The creak of a door opening filled the room, and Marnie walked out from her room. She was wearing her evening robe and her fuzzy pink slippers, the ones with the word ‘Sassy’ printed on them in fake rhinestones. Although the slippers had once been bright pink and pristine, they were now matted after heavy use.

“Hi, Shane,” she greeted and shuffled to the counter. She placed a kettle on the stove and turned up the heat. It was time for her evening cup of tea. “How’s Rose?”

“Good,” Shane said. Even after some time, he still didn’t feel comfortable talking a lot about her. He disliked revealing anything about his personal life in general, and to him, she was something precious. He thought, somewhat irrationally, that he would break whatever they had if he gushed too much.

Marnie smirked, used to Shane’s reticence. “How nice. Tell her I said hello.” The kettle began to emit steam, and she pulled it off the stove. As she dipped her tea bag into a mug now filled with hot water, she looked at her nephew with a thoughtful expression.

“What?” said Shane. Marnie continued to stare, but didn’t say anything until Jas announced she was tired and left the room. She paused for a few moments and waited to hear the click of Jas’s door being closed. 

“Are you doing okay?” Her eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed. Marnie’s classic expression of concern. She raised the mug to her lips and took a sip, studying him.

Shane slammed his hand against the table, causing Marnie to jump and press a hand to her heart. “Dammit, why does everyone keep asking me that? I’m fine.”

In the silence that followed, Marnie placed the mug down and pushed it back, the sound of the ceramic scraping on the counter echoing through the room. “I just want to make sure you’re healthy,” she said quietly.

“I am.”

“You have to tell me what’s going on, okay?” Marnie’s tone got more insistent, harsher.

Shane ran his hands along his face, then fixed Marnie with a hard stare. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“Shane,” she said. “This doesn’t just affect you. You almost…you almost _died_ , and if Jas loses you—”

“I know.” Shane cut her off and stood up. The door to his room slammed shut behind him.

As he flopped down onto his bed, face up, Shane stared up at the ceiling. It had begun to storm outside, and he could hear the claps of thunder rattling the walls. He listened to their booms and to the rain tapping on the roof until the early hours of the morning.

* * *

The waiting room at the counselor’s office was cramped and stuffy, just a small hallway jutting out from a couple of doors at its end. A gray carpet covered the floor, and Shane traced his foot around one of the stains on its surface as he waited. 

The door on the left opened and out popped a petite woman with glasses. “Shane?”

Shane got up and walked into the room. His counselor closed the door behind him with a click.

“So, what do you want to work on this week, Shane?” Her voice had a whispery quality about it, but it was strong at the same time. 

Shane stifled an annoyed groan. He hated when his counselor asked that. Wasn’t it her job to decide what needed fixing about him? He wasn’t any good at this shit; he hated every part of himself.

He shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Well.” The counselor looked him straight in the eyes, and he darted his gaze away, focusing instead on the beads that hung on strings off the lampshade. The lamp next to the counselor’s chair was one of the only sources of light in the dim room. “How have you been feeling lately? How’s your depression?”

How’s your depression? Well, that was a complicated fucking question, wasn’t it?

After a few moments of Shane not responding, the counselor decided to try rephrasing her question. “Let me ask you this. Have you noticed any differences since coming home from the hospital? It’s been quite some time now.”

Shane closed his eyes. A rain drenched body laying, limbs twisted, next to a cliff. Cans of beer scattered in the grass. Vomit in a pool next to his head. He could only remember the night he tried to commit suicide in short bursts and flashes, but he distinctly recalled the smooth, white sheets of the hospital bed as he woke up the next morning and was hurtled back into his reality.

“Yeah,” he said. “I feel…better. I think.”

He knew this was, to some extent, true. He felt good when he was with Rose, helping her on the farm, surrounded by fresh air and lush greenery. He enjoyed the days when he got to play with Jas and laugh with her as they skipped rope or pretended to have a tea party. These were the things that he tried to get better for.

The counselor nodded. “That’s good. Better is good.”

“It is, but…I feel bad a lot too.” Shane uncrossed his arms and started to tap his fingers on the armrest of his seat. “Like, I still want to disappear sometimes. And I spend a lot of time feeling numb and not doing anything except think about how worthless I am.”

“That’s normal.”

Shane frowned. “It is?”

“Mmhmm,” she said. “Recovery is not a straight line. It’s often more of a…zigzag pattern. Or you’ll go backwards sometimes. It’s all part of the process.”

“Oh.” Shane stared down at his hands, which had moved into his lap. He was suddenly shaky all over. “But what do you do if you feel like you’re going backwards a lot?”

The counselor thought for a moment, observing Shane as he shifted and fidgeted in an attempt to quell his anxiousness. “Well,” she said. “There’s always time to turn around and start going forward again.”

Start going forward again. That’s what Shane wanted to do. It’s what he _needed_ to do, for Jas, for Marnie. For Rose.

As he stepped out of the entrance to the counselor’s office and into the bustle of Zuzu City, he noticed that the rain that had poured down since the morning had come to a stop while he was at his appointment. The air smelled earthy and wet, yet fresh and cool at the same time. The sun poked through what clouds had begun to part.

Shane decided that, for once in his life, he would take the good omen he was given and clutch onto it for as long as he could.


	2. A Fragile Love

Rose curled her fingers around the edges of a crown made of woven sticks and soft flower petals. The tulle on the skirt of her white dress made her legs itch, and every few seconds she had to brush her hair, which spilled over her shoulders in waves, out of her face. But she still enjoyed the feeling of looking nice, instead of wearing jeans with dirt stains on the knees and flannels with holes in the elbows.

It was the morning of the Flower Dance. She placed the crown on her head and walked out the door.

The year before, she hadn’t intended on going to the festival at all. She awoke the morning of the dance ready to continue her work on clearing out the fields only to find Mayor Lewis standing on her porch.

“Good morning, Rose,” he greeted with a jovial wave.

Rose stumbled back in surprise before composing herself. “Um, how long have you been standing out here?” She wasn’t really sure she wanted to know the answer, but thought she had to ask anyway.

Mayor Lewis ignored her question and instead fixed her with a serious look, bushy white eyebrows turning inward and creating creases on his forehead. “I’m concerned that you haven’t…integrated yourself into the town yet,” he said. “Your grandfather, as you know, was such a pillar of our little community. You would be doing him a great disservice by refusing to participate in town events, as you’ve done so far.”

She knew her grandfather, with his kind and weathered face, had been a powerful presence in town. The farm was his legacy. She remembered visiting him one summer as a girl, watching him water his plants with this content little smile, the crinkles around the corners of his mouth softening his countenance. He never wore that same expression doing anything else.

Now, sticks and weeds and stones covered the farm’s soil where crops once grew in bunches. The image of her childhood shattered in one sweeping move. 

As Mayor Lewis continued to praise her grandfather, she crossed her arms over her chest and stared down at the ground. He was lecturing her, and she blinked to stop nervous tears from flooding her eyes. She wanted to explain that she had gone to the Egg Festival, she just didn’t want to participate; the thought of all those people staring at her as she ran around gave her a persistent sense of nausea. She opened her mouth. Nothing came out.

“Come to the Flower Dance today, Rose,” Lewis said, a white dress in his outstretched hands. Rose vaguely wondered where he’d gotten it from, then decided she definitely didn’t want to know the answer to that one. “Consider it a favor for your grandfather’s old friend.”

In the end, she’d conceded to Mayor Lewis’s wishes. Standing next to the punch bowl, she wrung her hands and kept her gaze trained on a row of trees ahead of her, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. 

“Ah, how refreshing. Absolutely divine.” The long-haired man in front of her licked his lips and sighed after taking a drink. He ran his free hand through his auburn hair, then tugged at the collar of his thick white undershirt, which bunched up in folds and spilled over the sides of his blazer. Rose wondered how he wasn’t dripping with sweat—his skin looked smooth and soft, no sheen at all.

“Keep it in your pants, boy.” An older woman sidled up next to him, winking at Rose. Her eyelids were covered in sparkly lavender eyeshadow. “It’s just some stupid punch. Ain’t even any liquor in it.” She pulled out a flask and raised it to her lips for a long chug.

Rose took that moment to slip away towards the edge of the field, shielding herself from view behind overhanging branches. Two beads of sweat formed on her temples. They always appeared when she wanted to blend in and pretend that she didn’t feel overwhelmed by all the people around her. Next to her, a man played with a young girl, looping together strings of grass and flower stems to make bracelets.

That was the day she’d met Shane.

Now, as she stepped into the kitchen at Marnie’s ranch, she blushed under his gaze, his lips parting just slightly before morphing into a bashful smile. 

“Pretty,” he said, swallowing. “Uh, I mean, you look…really nice, Rose.” As he closed the gap between them, he reached out and pulled down on a piece of her hair. Her cheeks heated up even more. At night, when it was just them in the farmhouse, he would take her hair out of its usual braid, slipping off the black elastic and sliding his fingers through the strands to slowly untangle them.

“You too,” she said.

He wore a powder blue suit, the tradition for the men at the dance. He’d confessed to her before that he felt ridiculous in it, but she thought it suited him, in a strange way. Blue, in all of its shades and variations, was his color.

A glass full of clear liquid sat on the kitchen table. Sparkling water. It trembled in the glass as Jas skipped around the room, tiny hands clutching at the fabric of her skirt and pulling it away from her feet. 

“Slow down there, kid,” Shane said, reaching down to pick the girl up and put her on his shoulders.

“Put me down,” Jas said as she pounded her fists on Shane’s chest. “I wanna practice dancing.” Shane set his goddaughter down and placed her hands in his.

As he swayed with Jas, the girl perched on top of his dress shoes, it occurred to Rose how much better he looked since that first Flower Dance. His face was leaner, less puffy. He’d finally shaved his five o’clock shadow that morning, she could tell, and his hair had also been trimmed recently.

“You look so lovely, dear,” Marnie commented as she sidestepped Shane and Jas and walked over to Rose. 

“Thank you, Marnie.” Rose looked down at her hands and twisted them together, smiling at the compliment.

“My, you and Shane look so nice together. I wish I had my camera with me,” said Marnie.

Shane snapped his head up and narrowed his eyes. “Cut it out, Aunt Marnie,” he said with a grumble. He gently lifted Jas and placed her back on the wooden floors. 

“Relax, Shane. I was just teasing.” Marnie gave Rose a wink. “You kids have fun today.”

With a sigh and an eyeroll, Shane made his way over to Rose and laced his fingers with hers. They walked hand in hand to the forest, Jas always just a few steps in front of them, eager to join the festivities.

* * *

The dance was a gorgeous affair as usual, sun filtering through the trees in rays of light and petals floating through the breeze. Someone had made various displays of flowers and placed them all around the forest.

Mayor Lewis stood in front of a massive archway, made of daisies woven around wood, with his hands on his hips, admiring. “Goodness me, I’ve outdone myself once again,” he said. 

Next to him, Robin, the town carpenter, shot him a dirty look. “You didn’t do anything, Lewis. That’s _my_ work.”

Lewis pressed his lips together, considering Robin’s words. “Yes, technically true. But it was my idea.”

Shane and Rose exchanged glances, struggling to suppress their smiles. “Classic,” Shane whispered in her ear, lips ghosting over her skin. Rose shivered. He always had this hold on her, all these little things he could do to make her heart beat just that tiniest bit faster.

Ahead of them, Jas found her friend Vincent, a pudgy red-headed boy who took lessons with her; Shane spent a lot of time telling Rose about the things Jas learned in school and bragged about how brilliant she was. Vincent offered his hand to Jas, who took it, and they started to jump around in circles.

“They’re probably going to get married someday, you know,” Rose said, turning her head to face Shane.

“To that kid?” Shane said with a scoff. “She can do better. Penny told me he hasn’t even started to read chapter books yet, stupid prick. Jas has been reading those for ages now.”

“Shane, he’s eight.”

Shane shrugged and shoved a chip loaded with a spicy green salsa in his mouth. Rose studied him with a thoughtful expression for a moment, then glanced back over at the pair of children laughing and running through the field of flowers.

“Have you ever thought…” Rose started, but then shook her head, cheeks growing warm. “Nevermind.”

She had been about to ask if he’d ever thought of her like that, someone to marry someday. As a young girl, buried under blankets after dark with a flashlight hovering over books about love and romance and happily ever afters, she imagined her own wedding. She would walk down the aisle in a dress with lace on the sleeves and a long train and kiss the man she was meant to be with forever. In the past, the man always had a shadowy face; recently, her daydreams had come back, and the groom’s face was that of Shane’s.

Shane watched her with a cautious look on his face as he slowly bit into another chip, but said nothing. Then, in a swift move, he reached out and curled a piece of her hair behind her ear.

She glanced at the villagers around her and realized that people were watching them, taking in their conversation as if it were a daytime soap on TV. Rose knew that the details of their relationship had been circulating as town gossip for a while; she was a relative outsider, and Shane wasn’t exactly known for being gregarious and open to new people. She hated it. The feeling of all those eyes trained on her, in that very moment, made her stomach clench.

Rose asked quietly if they could move to the edge of the field, over by the trees.

“Are you okay?” Shane asked. His thumb brushed over the back of her hand as he led her away from the small clusters of people.

“Yeah. Just a lot of people here. Don’t like them looking at us,” Rose mumbled. She reached a finger up to the side of her forehead. Sweat.

Shane frowned. “Do you mean Emily? Because I can tell her to stop.” He glanced across the field to where the blue-haired bartender stood. Emily gave Shane and Rose a goofy grin and held up her fingers in the shape of a heart. He drew a hand across his neck to signal for her to stop. She stuck her tongue out at Shane and waltzed away to the center of the field, where she began to shake her hips to nonexistent music. “Goddammit. She’s the worst. I swear, next time I see her I’ll—”

“No, not her. I just…there’s too many people around.” She bit her lip. “I know where we can go.”

She grabbed Shane’s hand, and together they wound through the rows of trees in the forest. Just past a large wooden log was the entrance to a hidden grove, a hideout Rose discovered her second season of living in the valley. 

Shane stared, openmouthed, at the sight. Trees lined every side of the clearing and thick vines twisted around one another and climbed up the trunks. The grass grew tall, tickling the back of Rose’s legs as she stood next to him.

“I call it the secret woods,” she said. “I’ve never told anyone else about this place. Except you.”

“Shit, this place has been so close this whole time?” Shane said with a shake of his head. “Unbelievable.”

He gave her a soft smile as he placed on hand on her waist and clasped her hand with the other. They began to sway. Leaves fluttered to the ground as they twirled around each other. 

As they danced, Rose tried to find the courage to apologize for having to leave the dance. “The weather today it’s, um, nice,” Rose said and tucked her head into the side of Shane’s neck so he wouldn’t see her embarassment. “So sunny.”

She felt him chuckle, the vibrations moving through his body and into hers. “Yeah, that’s why it’s a nice day. The weather.” He paused. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Yes.” Since moving to the woods, isolated and quiet, her heart rate had slowed. A sense of calm enveloped her. She pulled away to look at his face and noticed the bags under his eyes seemed even more deep set than they had been the previous weekend. Even as he cleaned up his habits, his eyes always gave him away, worn down and bleary. “What about you?”

Shane frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You had trouble, um, sleeping. Last weekend. Remember?” Rose fixed her gaze downwards, focusing on a daisy that sprouted between her feet. 

“Right,” he said quickly, moving her into a spin. “That was nothing. I’m fine.” 

Rose fell quiet. A certain kind of sadness lived in Shane’s heart—she knew this—and she wished she could reach in, sift through his blood and guts and pain, and pull it out. But she didn’t know how to make him talk when she kept her own words pressed so tightly to her soul. 

So they danced on. Rose looked up. As she stared at the sky, the rising and falling of Shane’s chest matching hers, she wondered how long they could last in this fragile love they’d cultivated, a perfect thing she feared would shatter at any moment.


	3. A Misplaced Daughter

_Stupid piece of shit._

No, that was wrong.

_I am a stupid piece of shit who is just as deserving of love as anyone else._

Better?

Shane sighed and rolled over in his bed. Sunlight streamed through the window, and he placed a hand over his eyes to shield himself from the rays. Slowly, he peeled himself out from under the blankets and stepped out of bed.

Today was going to be a good day. He was going to try.

It was a Saturday, and those days were his time for Rose. In the morning, after preparing himself a squishy microwaved omelet for breakfast, he trekked up the road to the farm, whistling a little tune the whole way. He would spend the day with her, then stay the night into Sunday. 

He flushed red as he recalled visiting her on Thursday night after work, his lips on her neck as she whispered for him to stay. He almost had. The thought of fluorescent lights beating down on him at Joja Mart was nothing compared to the way her hands felt on the bare skin of his back, moving up slowly to flutter over his shoulders. But in the end he succumbed to his job, resigned to working towards paying the rent he still owed Marnie for the month.

Shane imagined how the day would go when he went to see her. He wanted to make her smile after turning down her offer to stay the other night. Should he sweep her up in his arms for a romantic kiss? Maybe he should get her some flowers. Was Pierre’s open this early, he could never tell because he knew the store closed every Wednesday, which Rose complained about constantly, but Saturday he could—

“Uncle Shane.” An insistent voice. The pattering of little feet across the wooden floor. “I want to play today.”

“Sorry, Jas, I’m a bit busy today. Do you think you could play with Vincent?”

Jas looked down at the ground and scraped her foot, clad in a small ballet slipper, back and forth in front of her. “Okay.” A wobble creeped into her voice.

From where she stood in the kitchen rummaging around in the cabinets, Marnie gave him the side-eye. Shane sighed, his hopes of seeing Rose alone deflated in one shot. “I mean,” he said. “Of course we can play. How would you like to go see Miss Rose on her farm?”

Even with the giddy smile that came to Jas’s face, Shane still felt a horrible sense of guilt for trying to weasel out of playing with a girl that was effectively his daughter. _You’re a terrible father. You won’t even play with her, you selfish asshole._

No, wait— _you are trying your best to balance your relationship with your girlfriend and your goddaughter._ There. The knot in his stomach began to unravel.

Since beginning therapy for his depression, he’d been working with his counselor to do what she referred to as “counteracting negative self-thought.”

“I want you to start working on of some of these negative thoughts you have about yourself.” His counselor’s voice, though frail and wispy, commanded attention to her every word. “Calling yourself a—” She glanced down at the notepad in her lap. “‘Goddamn failure and waste of space’ is not going to help you recover.”

“So you’re asking me to lie to myself?”

The counselor wore tiny glasses strung on two silver chains that made her eyes look magnified, like a bug, but also gave her a certain intensity. She stared at Shane with them. He shrank back in his chair.

“Okay, I’ll try it,” he mumbled. He picked at a piece of lint on his hoodie.

She gave him a warm but close-lipped smile. Underneath the guise of tough love she sometimes wore was a kind heart. “Good, I’m glad to hear that,” she said. “By reframing your thoughts into something positive, you might find your depression less overwhelming to deal with.”

“Right,” Shane said. “Okay.”

As he walked out of the counselor’s office and onto the city sidewalk, he tried to focus on the way the sun shone brightly overhead in the clear blue sky, instead of the way the heat made his skin feel like something was crawling on it. Like he was suffocating.

* * *

Rose said nothing when he arrived on the farm, instead dropping the pair of shears in her hands, which were being used to trim various plants, and running up to him. She yanked on his collar and kissed him roughly. Dizzy, Shane pulled away and motioned to his side, where Jas was pretending to stick a finger down her throat.

“Gross,” she said.

“We’ve got company today,” he said with a grin.

Rose turned bright red and let go of his collar. “Hi, Jas,” she said, crouching so she was at eye level with Jas. “I like your shoes.”

“Thanks,” Jas said, beaming. “Uncle Shane got them for me.”

“Wow, that was very nice of him.” Two dimples dotted the sides of Rose’s mouth as she smiled up at Shane. Even after all this time, Shane’s heart still skipped a small beat when he saw them.

Rose stood, taking one of Jas’s hands, and led the girl over to her flower garden, which bloomed with an array of colors. Shane felt a sense of warmth as he watched them interact, Rose’s hand resting gently on Jas’s shoulder as she knelt down to point out each of the flowers one by one. 

Then, as he watched Jas clap her hands in delight as Rose gifted her a bright pink tulip, he began to feel like an outsider to his own relationship with his goddaughter, an onlooker to something beautiful and happy and pure.

_Look at how easily Rose talks to Jas. Look how happy she is. You’re interrupting their happiness just by being here._

Dammit. This was supposed to be a good day. 

“Uncle Shane, come join us,” Jas called out, turning her head away from a patch of fairy roses. Her favorite. Shane shook his head; the dark clouds building in his mind kept him tethered to where he stood. 

“Are you okay?” Rose. She appeared by his side while a distracted Jas played with the farm’s resident dog, an old golden retriever by the name of Mitzy. Suddenly, Shane felt like Rose was standing too close to him.

“I’m fine. Can’t I just want a little space without something being wrong?” he snapped. She stepped towards him. “Just back the hell off, alright?”

Rose moved back. A series of rapid blinks revealed that she was trying very hard not to cry. She stared at the ground, the circular motion of her foot drawing ovals in the dirt.

But even though Shane had upset her, she still said nothing. She never said anything, and Shane began to wonder if he’d agreed to dating a mute. He wanted her to say something, yell at him, smash something against a wall—as if to prove, once and for all, what an awful human being he was.

He wanted justification.

“I think you should go home,” she finally said, a faint whisper. She still wouldn’t look at him. 

Shane nodded. There it was, the proof he wanted all along. Only now that he had it, he wished he could burn the details out of his memory, the way she folded her arms across her chest and gripped so tightly that her knuckles turned white or how the tiniest tremor registered in her voice.

He turned away as she started biting her lip, another move to keep the tears from falling. “Jas, it’s time to go home,” Shane said. “Aunt Marnie needs our help with something.”

After he left, Shane knew exactly what Rose would do. She would stand, fidgeting, as she watched him walk away. Then she would go into the farmhouse, close the door behind her, and start to sob. He’d only seen Rose cry once, on the first anniversary of her father’s death, but he’d never forgotten it, her shoulders shaking as silent tears spilled out in waves over a blotchy face. She was always quiet, even in her sadness.

An ache pulled at his heart. He tried not to look behind him as he and Jas left the farm and made their way down the long dirt path towards home.

* * *

If Marnie was surprised at their early return back to the ranch, she didn’t show it. She looked at Shane for a long time, taking in his facial expression, before giving Jas a piece of paper and a marker to draw a new ‘OPEN’ sign for the store’s front counter. He told himself to thank her later.

While Jas uncapped her marker and went to work on her new assignment, Shane slipped into his room. He sat on his bed and rubbed the heel of his hands over his eyelids, creating bursts of light behind them. 

Taking care of Jas was something no one had prepared him for. He remembered the days of going over to his friend and his wife’s apartment to babysit and thinking, as he and Jas played make believe with her stuffed animals, that he could do this someday. Maybe, in the distant future, he’d have a kid of his own. 

That was before a knock on his door and a social worker in a gray suit changed everything. The sensation of blood rushing to his head, as if he was being dangled upside down, ran through him as he received the news that he was Jas’s new guardian. As if being told just a week before that her parents had died wasn’t enough. He recalled staring at the social worker’s hair as she talked, its bun so tightly wound it made the skin of her face stretch.

A knock came at his door and then, without waiting for an answer, Marnie opened the door and stepped inside. She took a seat next to him on top of his crumpled white sheets. He knew she would’ve sat down regardless of whether or not he invited her to, so he stayed silent. 

“What happened today? Why are you back so soon? Is Jas okay?”

Shane bit his lip and stared out the window. He released it, feeling a tiny patch of skin come off his bottom lip. At first, he wanted to fight her, to tell her that information was none of her business. Then the heaviness of his eyelids and the exhaustion made him reconsider.

“I got mad at Rose.” He stared down at his hands and concentrated on holding them still against the fabric of his jeans. They quivered and shook if he took them off a solid surface.

“Oh, Shane,” Marnie said and pulled him into her side for a hug. He kept his hands pinned to his thighs, not hugging her back. 

“It’s whatever,” he mumbled. “I fucked it up, just like I knew I would.”

Marnie frowned and let go of Shane. “Alright, now that’s just a terrible attitude to have,” she said, voice growing angry and heated. “You know what you’re going to do tomorrow? You’re going up to that nice girl’s farm and you’re going to apologize to her. Got it?”

“Why do you even care?” Shane scowled. “It’s not your goddamn relationship.”

“No, it’s not my ‘goddamn relationship.’ But it’s getting the way of you taking care of Jas, and I won’t have it. Not in my house,” Marnie shot back. She paused for a moment, took a long breath in and out, then sighed. “Shane, I want to see you get better. When you talk like that, it makes me think you aren’t taking your recovery seriously.”

“I am, Aunt Marnie.” He swallowed to suppress the sob crawling up his throat. “I promise I am.”

Marnie nodded, then placed a hand on his shoulder. “I want you to keep going. It’ll get better.”

“Will it? Will it really?” Shane’s disbelieving and apathetic tone contrasted with the sob that stayed in his chest, persistent in its efforts to claw its way out of him.

“I…I have to believe it will,” she said. “That we’ll all make it through.” She pressed her lips together and gave him one last look before getting up and walking out of his room.

Shane raised his hands up to see if they still shook. They were steady. He breathed out, a long puff of air, feeling nothing and everything all at once. Rolling onto his back, he stared up at that white ceiling, following the lines that spread out in a web of cracks in the paint.

_Everyone would be better off without you._

_You’re nothing compared to Rose._

_You’re nothing like Jas’s father._

_You’re nothing._

There were no positive statements to make him believe otherwise. 

Shane suddenly felt thirsty, mouth dry and cotton-like. He reached out and squeezed his fingers around the empty bottle of sparkling water on his nightstand, crushing it in his hand.


	4. An Unspoken Feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Quick note: Updates are probably going to be every week just to keep this on a more consistent schedule and give me time in between to write the chapters. Thanks for reading so far, I hope you've enjoyed it! <3

The blistering summer heat made Rose sweat as she stood on the sidewalk, sputtering and coughing in the wake of exhaust fumes as the bus drove down the street and out of sight. Almost immediately, someone bumped into her and accidentally elbowed her side, muttering a half-hearted apology as they sped away. Rose spun around, eyes wide, but the person was already gone.

As she made her way through the crowded sidewalks, bobbing and weaving through the throngs of people, Rose wondered how she’d ever lived in Zuzu City. She supposed at one time, she’d found the anonymity relaxing. Now, compared to the valley, it seemed impersonal and cold and overwhelming. 

“Do you think you could pick up some cereal at the store before I get home?” a middle-aged woman yelled into her phone as she passed Rose. “I said _some cereal_. No, not caesar salad. How did you even get that from what I said? Cer-e-al.”

Rose sighed, wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans. In the city, with everyone dressed in nice business clothes and fashionable outfits, she was hyperaware of how much she stuck out. The growing hole in the left knee of her pants seemed to get bigger by the second, and her old flannel suddenly felt scratchy. 

Just two more blocks.

As she approached the edge of the city, she let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding in. The sloping green hills that made up the cemetery, which normally made her feel sad, brought her much needed relief. 

She stopped in front of a glossy marble headstone. Her father’s grave. Brushing aside the flowers that rested at the bottom, which were now wilted and shriveled, she reached down to put a new bouquet in its place. Then she sat in front of the grave, cross-legged, her boots staining the sides of her jeans with dirt.

As she said a prayer, the one her dad had always recited before they ate dinner, she thought about how long it had been since she last visited this place. She knew it had to have been the previous fall, when Shane came by her house to give her flowers. It seemed like a long time ago, a memory from a different time. She’d cried and cried in front of him, and he’d just held her in his arms with this strangled look on his face. His hoodie sleeves had been soft and warm wrapped around her, even with all the little fuzzy bumps and random holes that dotted its surface.

Her dad would’ve liked Shane, she thought. Shane’s bluntness would have won her dad over in a heartbeat; he was a man who had hated niceties any kind and preferred a genuine insult to a forced smile. 

She wished she knew how Shane was doing. They hadn’t spoken since he brought Jas over, that day when he snapped at her. When they passed each other in the early mornings, he on his way to work and she on her way to buy farming supplies, he would open his mouth, as if to say something or reach out a grab her hand. But he never did, and they went on in silence, sliding by one another as if strangers on the street.

She wished she could be the one to say something, but she knew she wouldn’t. Silence chained her, the way it always had.

Her heart ached. The valley without him seemed a lot lonelier.

On her way back to the bus station, to return to her farm, she caught a glimpse of that all-too-familiar blue Joja hoodie and a head of hair so black it appeared purple. Her heart jumped to her throat. Shane was here. What was he doing in Zuzu City?

It was a Thursday. Shane’s counseling appointments.

Panicked, she moved off to the side of the crowd of people, hiding behind a lamppost until Shane turned the corner. In his hands, he held a single flower. A rose. He twirled it in his fingers as he walked.

Was that for her? She willed herself to run, to go to talk to him, but she thought if she moved she might throw up. She was too weak—she couldn’t do it. 

Once more time had passed, Rose hurried to the bus stop and hopped on. The ride back to Pelican Town was quiet, serene. There was no one on the bus except her and Pam, the driver, much to her relief. Shane must have decided to spend more time in the city.

As she watched the fields and trees whiz by, she remembered how, during his sickness, her dad always longed to visit her grandfather’s farm in the valley. Once he turned eighteen, he’d left town for good, sick of the suffocating atmosphere of a small town with nowhere to go. He hadn’t been back to see Pelican Town in a number of years, but he felt nostalgia for what once had been his childhood home. 

At the time, Rose made her living in Zuzu City, a soul-draining customer service job at Joja Corp that required her to answer phone calls all day long. She remembered feeling lightheaded during all of her shifts, shaking as she dialed numbers and picked up the phone to answer its rings. Every time she talked to someone, she had to imagine it was some faceless blob in order to avoid getting too anxious. But it was a job, and it paid the bills, so she stayed until just one year turned into five. 

So, her dad had come to live with her in that tiny apartment on top of an old Chinese restaurant that was always under some kind of renovating. A man dying of cancer couldn’t afford to be picky. He wanted to spend his last days with Rose. 

When she stepped off the bus, she thought of nothing but the fact that her dad hadn’t lived long enough to see the trees that spread out before her vision or the bright blue of the afternoon sky one last time. 

* * *

A little more than an hour later, as Rose sat in her farmhouse playing fetch with Mitzy, she heard a knock at the door.

She opened it tentatively. “Shane.”

He stared at her for several moments, blinking, his mouth opening and closing. “This is for you,” Shane finally said, holding out the flower. It was the rose he’d been holding when she saw him in Zuzu City. “It’s um, a rose. You know, because, you, uh…”

“I’m Rose, it’s a rose. I got it.” She let out a small laugh and gingerly plucked the rose from his hands. “Thank you.”

“I’m really sorry. I was a jerk, and I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you for my own dumb problems.” Reflexively, his hand reached up to scratch the back of his neck, and he kept his head bent and staring at the ground while he talked. 

“It’s okay,” Rose said. 

But the truth was, she wanted to tell him that it wasn’t okay. That he needed to communicate when he was having a bad mental health day or when he felt sad or anxious or mad. She wanted to scream, to argue it wasn’t fair that he’d gone a week without apologizing to her or even acknowledging her existence.

Rose opened her mouth to say something, but all that came out was air. The two beads of sweat coated her temples. She looked down at the rose in her hands. It had wilted slightly in the summer sun.

“Jas was pretty sad. That we left the other day.” Shane stared down at the ground. “I feel terrible that I ruined it for her, too. I’m such an idiot.”

“Shane, it’s—”

“Really, you should probably just break up with me now, get it over with. I’d totally understand, really I would.” Shane was rambling now and had snapped his head up to look at her with this pleading expression, like he wanted her to save him from himself. 

“Why don’t you come on in?” she said, cutting him off. He nodded.

Back inside the farmhouse, she placed the flower in a small vase with water. Shane didn’t say anything but watched her, carefully, as if scared of her reaction. Rose turned around and closed the distance between them, tugging on his collar to press her lips to his. She needed to bring him as close to her as possible so as not to lose him again.

He responded immediately to her touch, bringing his hands to circle around to her back and pull her in. She slid her fingers up the front of his chest to his neck and his jaw, then rested them on the sides of his face, clutching desperately. The stubble scratched the surface of her palms. Her sigh fluttered in the tiny space between them as they broke apart for air, lips still sticking together slightly. Their breathing was labored, perfectly in sync as she met his gaze from under her eyelashes.

Shane looked into her eyes as he slid his hands up and unraveled the elastic at the end of her braid to twist his fingers through her hair. Rose’s stomach suddenly churned, guilt overtaking her. She knew none of this was fair to either of them. Yet, there was a part of her that feared their relationship would crumble if she exposed her true thoughts, like a crack in the foundation. In her mind, she saw everything tumbling down. Shane was already struggling with his demons, constantly fighting to get them under control, and she didn’t want to add to his burdens. She wanted to make them better.

In one swift move, she ran her tongue along his bottom lip and closed the small gap they’d created. They stumbled all the way to her bedroom, attached at every point of possible contact on their bodies. Rose melted into Shane, afraid that if she let go for even a second, he’d vanish into thin air as if he’d never been there to begin with.

* * *

“Is green tea okay?” A kettle whistled on the stove as Leah opened a cabinet in her kitchen and pulled out a hand-painted mug. 

“Yes,” Rose said, intertwining her hands in her lap. She sat in Leah’s cabin in an old wicker chair that felt like it might break any second. The cabin was sparsely decorated; Leah was a minimalist at heart and didn’t like to collect a large amount of possessions. Rose found it charming in a simple way. It reminded her of her own farmhouse.

Leah nodded, then poured the water into the mug, steam curling from its spout. She handed it to Rose with along with a tea bag.

Their friendship, borne of a mutual respect for the others’ loner tendencies, developed tentatively over Rose’s first year in Pelican Town. She admired the redhead’s confidence, her ability to be alone with no shame and sit in the saloon on Fridays by herself. Rose wished she could step foot in the bar without wanting to run back out immediately.

“How have you been?” Leah asked as she moved to the center of the room to chip away at her latest work of art, a wooden sculpture of a bear standing on its hind legs, mouth open in a menacing growl.

“I’ve been alright.” Rose wrapped her hands around the mug, its warmth seeping into her skin. It felt good. She took a small sip of the tea and winced as it burned the tip of her tongue. 

The sounds of scraping filled the room as Leah worked. “How’s Shane doing?”

“He’s good.” Rose paused. There was something about Leah’s quiet and loyal nature, like she would never betray a friend’s confidence, that made her want to tell the truth. “Actually, um, we got in a fight a while ago because he snapped at me. We just made up yesterday, but we didn’t talk for a week or so.”

“A week?” Leah frowned, lowering her arm from where it had been suspended in mid air, ready to strike the wood. “And he didn’t talk to you at all? Or say sorry?”

“Yeah, but, it’s okay.” Rose stared into her mug of tea and tilted it slightly in a circle, watching the liquid swirl around. She clutched the sides tightly. “We’re good now.”

Leah stayed quiet for a while. “I had a really terrible ex, you know,” she then said. “Her name was Kel. Breaking up with her was the best decision I ever made.” Leah never outright stated anything that might upset someone, her statements requiring a careful reading between the lines.

Rose set her tea on the table and fiddled with the ends of her braid, the coarse hairs brushing across her fingertips. “We’re fine, Leah,” she said. “I promise. He’s just going through a rough time, that’s all. We’ll work it out.”

“If you say so,” Leah said with a shrug. She went back to scraping at the side of the bear’s face with her knife. “Hey, you’re coming to my art show right? Next week? I haven’t decided on a location yet, but I’m thinking it’ll be in the town square.”

“Of course,” Rose said, dropping her hands and placing them in her lap. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Leah smiled. “Good. I’m really nervous to show everyone my art,” she said. “But I think it’ll be easier with a friend there.”

It made Rose feel placated for just a moment, knowing that someone as confident and collected as her friend was anxious to display her art to the world. But deep down, Rose knew that her problems ran much deeper than Leah’s. Leah wasn’t afraid to speak her mind.

She stared out the window of the cabin as Leah worked, watching a tree that stood just outside. A yellow bird perched on its branches, and a few moments later, a red and blue colored bird joined it. But when the red and blue bird moved closer, the yellow bird flew away, up and into the sky.

The world was speaking to her in metaphors and symbolism, just like the books she read. She felt crazy. Shaking her head, Rose downed the rest of her tea and thanked Leah for the company. 

It was dark when she left the cabin. As she passed by Marnie’s ranch, on her way home to the farm, she stopped and looked inside. The curtains were open, and a yellow light shone through the window. She saw Shane with Jas. They were playing some kind of card game where every now and then, Shane would roll his eyes and Jas would stick her tongue out at him. Marnie watched in the background with an amused expression on her face.

They looked like a family. Rose thought about her dad, her grandfather, her mom. All dead or gone. Tempted for a moment to knock on the door and ask to join them, she dismissed the thought and continued making her way back to the farm.

Her heart ached again with each step she took, her boots leaving footprints in the dirt. This time, it was from something that she’d both lost and something she wanted more than anything to have for herself.


	5. A Shitty Job

The sparkling water opened with a hiss as Shane twisted the cap and pulled it off to take a long chug. Wiping his mouth, he placed the top back on the bottle and set it on the end table next to his chair. 

His counselor watched him with her bug eyes. She was normally careful to keep any emotions to herself, her neutral expression a constant, but today she looked concerned. “How have you been doing with cutting back on your drinking habits?”

“Alright, I guess,” Shane said, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back. He crossed his ankle over the top of his leg. He remembered the first few times he visited the counselor’s office, how he spoke through a clenched jaw and sat up so straight he never touched the back of the chair. “I haven’t had anything to drink since the beginning of winter.”

Technically, what he said was true—he hadn’t touched a bottle of whiskey or a case of beer in a number of weeks. After he came home from the hospital, Marnie made a big show of cleaning out the stash of alcohol in his bedroom closet and all the various wines and hard liquors that cluttered up the kitchen cabinets. She’d even cut back on her own drinking, determined to stand with Shane in some kind of solidarity, and she only went to the saloon one night a week to meet Lewis, her “secret” lover.

But even though the alcohol itself hadn’t passed his lips in a while, the thought crossed his mind more than he would’ve liked it to. He didn’t tell his counselor about the times on his way home from work that he lingered at the entrance to the saloon, just waiting for his willpower to break.

“That’s really great to hear.” She gave him a nod of approval, so slight he almost missed it. “You’re doing wonderfully, Shane. Recovery isn’t always easy, but I can see you’ve been making an effort to improve things for yourself.”

Shane shrugged. “I don’t really do it for me.”

The counselor leaned forward and clicked her pen, readying it to take notes. She had a large yellow notepad that she scribbled on throughout their sessions. It was filled with her slanted, messy handwriting, as if she scrambled to keep up with everything that was wrong with him. “What do you mean by that?”

“Just…I don’t really like myself very much, but Rose seems to.” Shane stared past the counselor’s head at a cluttered shelf of books. They all had titles like ‘Coping with Depression’ or ‘What to Do When Your Teen Has a Mental Illness.’

“This is the girl, correct?”

“Right,” he said with a curt nod. He stared down at the carpet and blushed. “And um, I’m probably in love with her, but she doesn’t know it yet. I haven’t exactly said anything to her, and I really feel like I’m screwing this whole thing up.”

To Shane, this wasn’t just a feeling, but rather a proven fact. He flashed back to that day on the farm, when he snapped, and she looked at him like he just kicked her dog. He might as well have.

After, he hadn't even been able to properly apologize to her and passed by her in town to avoid an inevitable confrontation. Whenever he tried to think of something to say to her, his brain had shut down and been replaced with radio static.

She had forgiven him, though, eventually. Why couldn’t he get that through his head?

The counselor made a note, then adjusted her glasses and glanced back up at him. “Why do you feel like you’re messing everything up?”

Shane huffed and clenched his hands, which were still crossed over his chest, into fists. His knuckles turned white. “Look, I don’t know. Don’t you ever get tired of asking questions?”

“It’s my job. If I didn’t ask questions, I wouldn’t get paid.”

“Yeah, whatever. I guess you’re right.” He unclenched his hands. “I do it for Jas, too. I feel like I owe it to her dad to at least try to be a good influence.”

“You owe it to Luke?” Just the counselor saying his name was enough to make that hollow feeling in his chest reappear and spread, like some kind of plague over his heart.

“Yeah.” Shane sighed, the exhale long and slow and sad. “Luke.”

Despite growing up next door to Luke his entire childhood and living in the same apartment building as adults, Shane could feel the details of his friend slipping through the cracks the further removed he was from the accident. He couldn’t remember if Luke had hazel or brown eyes or what his favorite so-bad-it’s-good movie was or if he liked to drink bourbon neat or on the rocks. He wished he had committed it all to memory, because he feared his recollections of Luke would eventually dissolve. And then it would be like he’d never even existed at all, and the thought of that was almost unbearable to Shane.

He didn’t mention any of this to his counselor. He figured it was implied.

The counselor began flipping through her notepad, yellow pages rustling as she pulled them back. She stopped on one of the pages towards the middle and placed her index finger on its words. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I have it marked down in my notes that he passed away on Summer 16. Four years ago now.”

“That’s…yeah. That’s right.” He fidgeted in his seat, hands coming uncrossed to rest on the tops of his thighs, fingers drumming across the denim.

“That’s coming up soon. I’m concerned about it being a potential trigger for your drinking,” she said.

“Oh,” Shane said. “Right.”

Of course she would assume he’d want to smother his grief under a night of heavy drinking. That’s what he’d done every year since Luke’s passing.

“Just remember to keep the steps in mind, okay? Exactly like you’ve been doing so far.”

Shane looked down at his lap, where a copy of a blue pamphlet titled ’How to Beat Alcohol Dependence’ sat. A crease where the pamphlet had been bent spread across the serious-faced man on its front, who cradled his forehead with one hand and a bottle of vodka in the other. 

In it was a list of ten suggestions for things to do whenever he felt the urge to self-medicate with booze, such as “calling a loved one” or “taking a brisk walk.” It also contained whole paragraphs’ worth of advice on how to acknowledge his dependence on alcohol and to “make amends with any friends or family that may have been hurt by his substance problem.” 

He liked the suggestions; it made him feel less useless to do something concrete, especially when he spent an entire day watching TV until his legs turned to jelly and wanted nothing more than to reach for a beer. 

But discussing his feelings and making amends? He was still working on that part.

He wondered if he’d ever stop working on that part.

* * *

“Hey,” Rose said, tapping Shane on the shoulder. He turned around, and she slipped a multi-colored lei over his neck with a grin. “Take this. Can’t be at the luau without it.”

“You’re right. Lewis might finally kick me outta town,” Shane said and flicked her gently, teasingly, on the forehead. She beamed at him.

Seeing her so happy and free almost made Shane pleased to be standing on the beach in the middle of the summer, with heat that pressed down on him and turned his cheeks shiny and red. What seemed like piles of sand had somehow made their way into his sneakers, and the sound of waves crashing against the shore in a steady beat nearly drove him insane. But these things faded into background noise as he looked at her.

In his hand he held a blue plastic cup filled with red punch. As he took a sip, sugary sweet going down his throat, he remembered years past of dumping the contents of a small flask into the very same punch. The flask now sat at the bottom of a garbage can, a victim of Marnie’s clean sweep of the house.

“So, I realized something yesterday,” he said, staring into his cup. “I’m two seasons sober.”

The force of Rose’s hug knocked him backwards, causing the punch to slosh around and spill a bit out the sides. It left a small stain on his plain white shirt.

“Shane,” she breathed. “That’s so amazing.” She nuzzled her face into his neck, and he could feel her smile full and stretching against his skin. He put his arms around her, cup pressed awkwardly against her back. 

As she pulled away—all too soon in Shane’s view—she pressed a kiss to his lips. “I’ll be right back, okay?” she said. “I need to go ask Leah something really quick.” Shane watched for a while as she made her way to the other side of the beach.

Emily, from where Shane could see her over Rose’s shoulder, popped her mouth open in an exaggerated ‘O’ and then giggled. Much to his annoyance, she began to head towards him.

“You better thank me at the wedding,” she said. Shane choked on his drink, and she laughed. She enjoyed this too much. 

On his first date with Rose, he’d stupidly thought it would be a good idea to take her to the saloon. Rose spent most of the time with this nervous energy about her, wringing her hands together as she glanced around the bar at all the other people. From her position at the counter, Emily had watched their date with her elbows propped up on the bar and cheeks in her hands. She occasionally chimed in with unhelpful commentary about their future children. 

That wasn’t even taking into account Emily’s incessant teasing before he’d even admitted his feelings to Rose or her attempts to play matchmaker.

“I don’t owe you anything,” Shane said and clutched his cup tighter. “If anything, you kept me from making a move. It was fucking annoying.”

Emily waved a hand in front of her face. “Oh please,” she scoffed, then grinned. “What would you have done without my guidance?”

She paused and the smile slowly disappeared. “I miss you,” she said. “You never come by the saloon anymore. I feel like we don’t ever get to just talk, you know?”

Shane frowned. “We never did that to begin with.”

Her face fell. “Yeah, but.” She placed her hands in the pockets of her red dress and swayed back and forth from heel to toe. “I always thought we were at least friends.”

Goddammit. He’d managed to alienate one of the few people in Pelican Town he could tolerate for more than about five minutes.

All in the name of recovering. Could he do anything right?

“We are,” Shane said quickly. “I’ve just been trying to get better. That’s all.”

Emily nodded and pursed her lips, thinking. “I understand,” she said, smile returning to her expression. “I think it’s great that you’re doing this.” 

He looked over to where Rose was talking to Leah. She’d worn her hair down today for the festival, a halo of frizz forming in the humidity, and it covered part of her face. Even so, Shane could tell that she seemed more relaxed than she normally was at town events as she fell into easy conversation with Leah.

“Yeah,” he said. “It was time.”

When Rose finally rejoined him, they walked out to the end of the docks together. The sounds of the villagers chatting among themselves turned into a din behind them. 

The wooden boards, old and worn down from years of use, creaked underneath their footsteps. Usually, the give of the wood made Shane nervous that he would fall through unexpectedly. But as they stood facing the ocean, hands intertwined, he’d never been steadier.

* * *

Canned beans: 10g. Canned vegetables: 12g. Canned soup: 15g. 

Did Joja Mart sell any food that wasn’t packaged into cans and boxes and laced with a million preservatives?

Shane could feel his soul withering away as he crouched down and slid the cans onto the bottom shelf of the aisle. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, knees beginning to feel sore, he adjusted the uniform-mandated cap on his head and revealed a patch of skin that had started to sweat under the fabric. The blast of the air-conditioning cooled his body and made goosebumps appear on his arms, but the parts covered by his uniform stuck to him in a cold sweat. It was an entirely unpleasant contrast.

“Dude.” Shane glanced up from under his hat to see Sam hovering over him. He had a broom in his hand and was idly sweeping it back and forth across the aisle; Sam made an art form out of doing as little work as possible. “We got an angry customer in aisle three. One of us needs to deal with it.”

From two shelves over, Shane could hear someone yelling at Riley, a young girl from a neighboring town who bussed into work everyday. They must be from Zuzu City, Shane figured. People from the valley were always overly polite.

“Christ,” Shane said. “They’re really laying into Riley.”

“Yeah, I feel bad,” Sam said. He stopped sweeping and propped an elbow up on top of the broom’s handle. “We should help her out.” 

Even though Shane hated dealing with customers more than he hated most other things in life, he felt bad for Riley. He and Sam had been helping the sixteen-year-old deal with difficult shoppers since she started working at Joja.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try to pawn this job off onto Sam first.

“Alright,” he said. “All yours.”

“It’s your turn, dude,” said Sam, nudging Shane with his foot. “I took care of the last crazy that came in here.”

“Sam,” Shane hissed, but Sam was already on the move, his head of blonde hair disappearing around the corner of the next aisle over and broom dragging behind him.

Shit.

As he made his way towards aisle three, Shane rubbed small circles on his temples and prepared for the oncoming headache he was about to face.

Standing in the center, face inches away from Riley, was a middle-aged man. He was short, even shorter than Shane, and completely bald. His shiny head turned an unflattering red as he screamed.

Double shit.

Shane placed a hand on Riley’s shoulder. “I got this,” he said. The girl nodded, grateful, then scurried off to the back room to grab a box of items to shelve.

“What seems to be the issue, sir?” Shane’s voice was gruff, abrasive. He could never bring himself to put on that chipper customer service front that Sam was so good at.

The man immediately stiffened and backed up, surprised by Shane’s lack of niceties. “I’m trying to return this frozen dinner.” He held up a box of pizza. It was empty, the open folds on the side of the box leaving a gaping hole. 

“Sir,” Shane said, jaw clenched and teeth gritted. “You cannot return the food if you’ve already _eaten_ the food.”

“This coupon says here that I can exchange any item for free. It doesn’t say it has to be uneaten,” the man said, fishing a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and shoving it in Shane’s face.

Shane snatched the coupon from his hands, scanned it briefly, and then held it up in the air. “This isn’t even for our store, it’s for the Joja Mart in Zuzu City. There’s a map with directions on it.”

“Yeah, but it says it’s for Joja Mart.”

“We can’t accept this. I’m sorry.”

“Fuck you man, I wanna speak to your manager.” The man began to inch closer, pulling himself up a couple of inches to stare Shane down. A little of his spit landed on Shane’s cheek, and suddenly all Shane could see was red.

“We. Can’t. Accept. This,” he said, enunciating each word slowly as he tore the coupon into pieces. The man’s face grew even redder, vein popping out on his forehead, as he sputtered incoherent profanities.

Shane was giving him a smug, satisfied grin when he felt a sudden chill next to him. Morris was here to ream him out. 

Triple shit.

Morris led him into a cramped back office with gray walls, lit only by a small desk lamp. Shane always thought it looked more like a police interrogation room than an office, an impression only enhanced by the fact that Morris turned the desk lamp so it was shining directly on where the employees sat.

“Shane,” Morris said and cleared his throat. He folded his hands over the top of a calendar that rested on the desk. It had reminders scribbled on it in blue pen, but Shane couldn’t quite make out what they said. He figured it was probably something like, ‘Ruin Pierre’s livelihood today at noon’ or ‘Shit on my employees at 3pm.’ “I think you already know why you’re here.”

Shane scratched at his chin. He suddenly felt itchy all over, as if just being in the presence of Morris was making him break out into hives. He jiggled his left leg rapidly to calm his nerves. 

Morris reached into one of the desk drawers, the rusty metal squeaking as he opened it, and pulled out a ruler. “This is your third incident this month. Do I need to remind you of the five tenets of good customer service?”

“Ah, no, that’s really okay. I’ll do better next time I promi—”

 _Thwack_. The ruler smacked against a white poster with thick black lettering that hung behind Morris. “Rule number one. The customer is always right.”

“Morris, really, I’m sorry—”

“Rule number two.” _Thwack_. “Always remember to smile.”

As Morris went through the rest of the rules one by one, Shane rolled his eyes up towards the ceiling and prayed to be anywhere other than in that claustrophobic Joja Mart office. He hoped that Yoba would forgive him for being a non-believing heretic, just this once, if only to save him from feeling like his throat was closing in. 

“Did you get all that?” Morris said, turning to Shane and peering over his glasses at him as if inspecting a speck of dirt on a countertop.

Shane held up his hand like he was swearing on the Book of Yoba. “I promise I will do my best to follow these rules, and I apologize for my transgressions.”

“Good, I’m glad we’ve reached an understanding.” The metal drawer opened again, and Morris dumped the ruler inside and closed it with a slam. “Also, I’m docking your pay for this week.”

“You’re _what_?” Shane said, mouth gaping. He snapped it shut, then slammed his hands face down on the desk and stood up. “What the hell is wrong with you?! I already apologized.”

“Keep that attitude up, Mr. Newfeld, and it’ll be for the month.” Morris stayed seated and stared up at him, a sadistic grin slowly crawling across his face like some kind of deformity. Slimy bastard. _Probably gets off on this shit_ , Shane thought. 

Docking his pay. Dammit, he needed that money to pay Marnie for the month. Not only that, but he’d been saving up to take Rose on a nice date, this secluded little restaurant in Zuzu City that served the best chocolate mousse—her favorite dessert. The image he’d had of her smiling and laughing as they sat across from one another, candles flickering on the table, shattered in his mind. 

Morris flicked his wrist up to inspect his watch. “Ah, it’s five o’clock already.” He glanced back at Shane, his face devoid of emotion. “You’re free to go.”

Red spots appeared in Shane’s vision as he whipped the cap off his head and yanked open the door of his locker in the back room. As he pulled out his change of clothes and stared into the locker, a sensation of free falling overtook him. He felt like one of those displays Morris sometimes had him assemble, a precarious stack of Joja Cola cans on top of one another. One tiny bit of force would knock the entire pyramid over.

This was that push.

The valley was still and quiet as he stepped out of the fluorescent lights of the Joja Mart and into the streets, the sun just beginning its descent into the hills in the distance.

As he walked home, all he could think about was Rose, and how he was disappointing her again and again. Like an avalanche, what he did wrong just kept piling up without any redemption on his part.

He was never going to be able to fix things with her because the universe hated his fucking guts.

Then there was Jas and Marnie, the people he was supposed to help support. How could he do that when he constantly fucked up at work? At everything in his life?

When he passed by Pierre’s, the sight of the calendar hanging next to the door taunted him. It was Summer 14. In just two days, it would be four years since he lost his best friend and his life went to complete shit.

He was feeling too much. He wanted to be numb.

Shane stopped outside of the saloon, fingers curling into fists, then reopening, again and again. Music trickled through the window, a jaunty tune permanently imprinted in his brain from his past. He sighed, and his shoulders slumped, resigned, as he pushed open the door and walked inside.


	6. A Shared Grief

During the summer, when the sun went down and darkness settled across town, Rose liked to go to the clearing in the Secret Woods and think. There was something about nights in the summer and their stillness that calmed her. It was during these times that Rose felt most at peace with the valley and her place in it.

As she lay on her back, eyes turned up, she counted the sprinklings of stars that dotted the sky. She breathed in. The air smelled like the forest, but also like Shane, the scent of clean laundry and pine and something else she couldn’t quite place. She curled her fingers around the hem of his shirt and turned to look at him.

Sensing her movement, he shifted his head so they were face to face, noses nearly touching. Their bodies rested side by side, and she felt warm all the way down at points of contact. He pressed a kiss to her nose, then pulled back.

“This is nice,” Shane said. His voice was quiet, contemplative. 

“Yeah,” Rose said. “It is.”

Studying Shane’s face, she could see there was something off about him. His eyes looked heavy, worn down, and almost a little bit guilty. He looked exhausted.

His eyes—they always gave him away. 

Shane tore his gaze away from her and looked back up at the sky. Cicadas hummed in the quiet around them. Above, green flickers of fireflies glowed in the dark. 

She pressed herself into his side and lifted his shirt up just slightly, beginning to trace over the small patches of the exposed skin. Under her fingertips, goosebumps sprouted. Rose smiled and blushed, grateful for the cover of darkness; even after all this time, she still couldn’t wrap her mind around the impact her touch had on him.

She remembered the first night they’d spent together at her farmhouse. It had been a week since an accident in the mines put her in the hospital, and Shane had taken care of her everyday, stopping by after work to help her re-apply bandages and make soup; it was canned soup from Joja Mart and it tasted the slightest bit burnt, but Rose always appreciated the thought.

On the seventh day, she stopped him in the middle of stirring a finished batch of soup and turned him around to press her mouth to his. They’d shared a kiss before in Dr. Harvey’s clinic, but this was different. She could tell Shane was nervous, trembling as they brushed lips. Then, as he grew more comfortable, he deepened the kiss. His hand came up from where they were pinned awkwardly at his side to brush her waist.

The soup was abandoned as they collapsed onto Rose’s bed.

Their first time was a bit awkward, bumbling, and Rose’s shoulder created a number of problems. Yet, it was somehow easy and sweet, a natural slide into intimacy that stayed with them throughout their relationship.

Intimacy. That meant telling your partner when something was wrong, too.

“I need to ask you something,” Rose said. Her throat vibrated uncomfortably, unused to talking after the long silence they’d been sharing.

“Okay.”

Her fingers began to shake on Shane’s stomach, and he grabbed them and brushed his thumbs over the backs of her hands, almost instinctively. A predictable sense of nausea seized her, and she forced herself to push the words through the lump growing in her throat. She’d promised herself she would be more honest.

“Where were you? Last night,” she mumbled. 

Beside her, Shane stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“Um,” Rose said. “Marnie called me.”

The way the phone rang, sharp and echoing through the farmhouse, haunted Rose as she stumbled out of bed and into the kitchen. She pulled the receiver off its stand on the wall; Rose hated using cell phones and the idea that she could be reached at any time to talk, a fear borne of answering endless calls in a cramped cubicle at Joja Corp. 

“Hello?” she said. Nervousness gripped her as she held the phone tightly to her ear. The two beads of sweat were there. Why were they always there? On the other end of the line, she heard a crackle as someone moved.

“Rose?” It was Marnie. She sounded worried and out of breath. “Have you seen Shane tonight? He never came back after work today.”

Rose didn’t answer for a while, frozen to the spot, mouth opening and closing. Shane was missing? She began to panic as her fears of losing him forever came to fruition in a way she’d never anticipated.

It reminded her of a night not too long ago, when Shane almost didn’t come home. She found him during a thunderstorm, one foot dangling over the edge of a cliff. She’d taken him all the way to Dr. Harvey’s, heart pounding the entire time. The way he’d moaned in pain, her name coming out as nothing more than a strangled cry, was something she preferred not to think about. 

“Are you alright, dear?” Marnie asked, as if she could sense Rose’s distress through the phone.

“Y-yes,” Rose said, swallowing. “Sorry, I’m just scared. I haven’t seen him either.”

She tried to control her breathing, but it was ragged and sharp as she waited for Marnie to respond. There was a silence, then the sound of a phone being put down. She heard a male voice, muffled and mixed with Marnie’s angry one. Shane had come home.

Marnie picked up the phone. “He’s alright, he just came back.” She let out a long sigh of relief.

Rose exhaled, releasing the breath she’d been holding in. “Okay,” she said, words still shaky and unsettled. “Thanks for letting me know. I think I need to go calm down.”

“Take care, dear,” Marnie said. Her voice was sympathetic. “I’ll be sure to give Shane a piece of my mind for you.”

“Thank you, Marnie.”

The click the receiver made as Rose hung up punctuated the deafening silence in her farmhouse. She slept little for the rest of the night, tossing and turning in the sheets of her bed until the sun rose, and she had to get to work for the day.

But Shane didn’t know any of that.

“She called you too?” He groaned and smacked a hand on his forehead. “She’s so fucking nosy. I was just going for a walk, and of course she freaked out. Practically called the goddamn SWAT team to come find me. She even called _Lewis_ , for fuck’s sake.”

Rose closed her eyes, trying not to cry. She could feel him collapsing in on himself and diving into that dark place. She’d never be able to find him in there.

But just when she thought she’d made him mad and pushed him away, he returned to her. “I’m sorry I scared you,” he said, quiet and soft.

“It’s okay.”

“I need your help tomorrow.” Her eyes shot open to look at him. This time, it was his eyes that were closed. “It’s Summer 16.”

Summer 16. That was the date Luke died. The reason he and Jas moved to the valley.

She pulling herself up and pressed her lips to his forehead. “What do you need me to do?” she said.

“I…can’t be alone. Please stay with me,” he said, tucking a strand of hair that had come out of her braid behind her ear. “So I don’t do anything dumb.”

So he didn’t drink himself to death, he meant. He didn’t keep the fact that he spent the previous years wasting away in an alcohol-fueled hell a secret.

“Of course,” she said, and he gave her the ghost of a smile. She didn’t mind, though; she knew it was all he could afford to give in that moment.

* * *

Shane showed up on Rose’s porch the next day at six in the morning, just as she rolled out of bed. Rain came down in sheets and banged against the sides of the farmhouse. When she opened the door, Shane stood there, clothes soaking wet and face looking like a lost puppy.

Once inside, she retrieved a set of spare clothes from a drawer in her room, leftovers from the last weekend he’d come up to visit. Over the course of the summer, she’d started clearing out a small space in one of the drawers, just for him.

“Thanks,” he mumbled as he shuffled into a pair of sweatpants. He brushed a hand over his hair, which was still dripping. The drops landed on his new, dry shirt, leaving little spots on it.

Rose just nodded.

They walked into the kitchen, the head of a match scratching against the side of the box as Rose lit it and dropped it into the fireplace. Flames grew slowly, then burst from the firewood in a sudden blaze. Both their cheeks turned pink as they stood in its wake.

Shane’s wet clothes sat in a pile on the floor, and he bent down to pull something out of the pocket of his hoodie. It was a can of Joja soup.

“Can we make this?” he asked.

The corners of her mouth melted up into a warm, close-lipped smile. “Absolutely,” she said, taking the can gently from his hands. “But I’m going to make it. You always cook it for too long.”

Shane laughed quietly. “Hey, you never complained when I made it before,” he said.

She gave him a tender kiss on the cheek, then went over to the stove and turned the burner up. As the soup began to bubble, she stirred slowly and deliberately, wanting to make sure it was perfect.

Shane came up behind her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Thank you,” he murmured. “For being with me today.”

Rose turned to look at him. His stubble grew wild and untamed, clearly unshaved for several days, and his undercut was poorly maintained. She wondered when he last touched it up. His eyes, the key: they looked bleary and unfocused, almost as if he were numb. 

“How are you doing?” she asked.

She heard him release a rattling breath that sounded like it was mixed with a sob. “You know,” he said, voice cracking. “Okay. I’m okay.”

“Okay.”

They remained like that in silence for some time, until Shane began to talk, soft and low. He started to tell her stories about his childhood, about him and Luke growing up together. They made Rose’s heart ache. The white-picket fence that both separated and joined the two neighbors became a symbol of something beautiful as Shane weaved tales of their time together.

She prepared two bowls of soup for them, spoons clattering against the ceramic. They sat down at the table next to one another.

As she ate, the artificial taste of the soup sticking to her tongue, he told Rose about the day Jas was born. He told her all about how tiny she was and how he’d marveled at how small her toes and fingers were as he held her. Shane confessed he always worried about dropping baby Jas; Rose noticed it was exactly like the fear he still had today of breaking her beyond repair.

Bowls emptied, they moved to sit on Rose’s couch, an old, battered, brown piece of furniture she’d gotten secondhand from Robin’s family when she first moved onto the farm. The cushions were stained and the armrests had holes with foam poking out of the fabric, but there was something wonderfully worn about the couch. 

They sank back into their seats, Rose curled up next to him with her feet tucked to the side. Shane stared straight ahead out the back window. The storm was still going strong, and its howls could be heard throughout the farmhouse.

“You want to know the worst part about it all?” Shane said.

Rose placed her hand on top of his, a move reminiscent of a moment they shared during her first spring in town, on the dock outside the ranch. That was the first time Shane had opened up to her about the sadness in his heart, and their relationship shifted forever.

“There’s not even anyone for me to blame,” he said. There were more cracks in his voice. “It wasn’t a drunk driver or…or a reckless asshole.”

“It just happened,” Rose said. She interlaced her fingers with his. 

He nodded and rubbed his free hand over the length of his face. “Like a fucking wrecking ball taken to my entire life.”

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. 

Next to her, she felt Shane start to shake. Tears streaked down his face, and he moved his hand to cover his eyes. 

She wrapped her arms around him. He gripped back tightly, fingers pressing deep imprints into her back. He shook and trembled as he sobbed, and Rose wanted, more than anything, to be able to make the pain stop. It took everything in her power not to break down too.

Rose held on until she felt his shoulders stop shaking. When she pulled away, his nose was red and the skin around his eyes puffy. He looked away, embarrassed, and placed his hand in hers as he shifted back into his original position.

His speech had a nasal quality about it when he spoke again, but it was also raw and emotional. “I know I don’t always show it or am the best boyfriend or whatever, but I…” He looked away from her, but still gripped her hand tightly, as if afraid she would let go. “I love you.”

Even though she often lived her life with her head in the skies, dreaming of possibilities and worrying about what-ifs, she felt fully grounded in that moment. She could feel the heat of Shane’s body next to hers and the pressure of her knees sinking into the couch cushions and every other physical sensation. Her heart fluttered and grew warm.

“I love you too,” she said. She squeezed his hand in reassurance, an affirmation of the quiet feelings that passed between them in infinite ways.

Together, hand in hand on that beat up little couch, they watched the rain slam into the glass windows and trickle down.

* * *

Wrapped in Shane’s hoodie, the walk down to the beach at night didn’t seem quite as chilly. She headed down the docks with Jas and Shane, the former holding Shane’s hand and skipping along, making the boards shake with each step. Marnie chose to stay back, afraid of the unstable docks.

“Besides,” Marnie said, digging her toes into the sand. “I like the feeling of the sand on my feet.”

The Dance of the Moonlight Jellies brought all of the villagers down to the ocean, where they spread out over the docks and chatted amongst themselves in small groups. Rose waved to Leah and Elliott, whose long hair flowed gloriously in the breeze, as they passed by. Emily stopped to speak with Shane for a second, then tugged on one of Jas’s pigtails and complimented her, leaving the girl smiling and giggling.

Rose’s childhood memories were so strongly tied to the festival that she skipped it during her first year in Pelican Town, choosing instead to watch a movie on TV and distract herself from her grief.

Every year during the Dance of the Moonlight Jellies, her parents would drive the three hours to go visit her grandfather. Her mom and dad would stand on the very same dock Rose was on that night, splitting a cigarette. That was their favorite way of communicating their love, through shared smokes and brushed fingers and meaningful glances as they inhaled deeply. 

The sharp smell of tobacco would mingle with the scent of saltwater as Rose sat below them with her legs swinging in the air over the ocean. Her grandfather would kneel down next to her and speak quietly to her about the jellyfish, naming the different features and types as they passed by in waves.

As she inhaled, she thought she could smell just the slightest bit of smoke.

There was a hand on her back. “You alright?” Shane said, lips by her ear. 

Rose nodded. “It’s just…my mom and dad used to bring me here,” she said. “Lots of memories.”

“Right,” he said, understanding immediately. He knew all about Rose’s past, how she’d grown up happily, then had her perfect family portrait smashed into a thousand pieces when her dad got that terminal diagnosis. Those words from the doctor turned their entire lives upside down.

She could see them on the dock now as she turned her head, a mirage in the summer night. 

Briefly, Rose wondered if her mom still had the same brown hair with blonde highlights, styled into a bob resting at her chin, and if she still wore the bell-bottom jeans with holes in the knees.

She hadn’t seen or spoken to her mom in two years. 

The jellies bobbed up and down in the water, gliding across the water in an array of colors. It was a sight that brought tears to Rose’s eyes, and she reached up to quickly wipe them away with a finger.

Jas bent over the edge of the dock to try to get closer to the jellyfish, and she reached a small arm out to touch one, coming dangerously close to falling into the water.

“Whoa there, kid,” said Shane and leaped forward to pull her back. “Don’t fall in on me. Aunt Marnie will never let me hear the end of it.”

She pouted, but acquiesced, grabbing Shane’s hand again and standing between him and Rose. As the jellyfish moved, Shane pointed out each one and described them to Jas. The glow illuminated their faces in a soft light; Shane looked more at peace than she’d seen him in a long time. The whole scene reminded Rose so much of her grandfather that she felt a tug on her heart. She felt warm and happy all over.

This was wanted she wanted, a family like this. Jas reached out and grabbed Rose’s hand, forming a line with all three of them on the dock. And Rose thought, just maybe, that she could be a part of theirs. 

It could be easy, even. Effortless. Days of worrying about her dad’s failing health and all the tasks she’d had to do alone, just to keep him alive and afloat for those precious few months, faded into the background. 

There was no going back, she decided. It was time to move forward.

On the way back to the farm, Rose was contemplative, yet giddy at the same time. She hummed to herself as she walked with Shane, swinging their hands back and forth.

He watched her with a small smile playing at his lips “You seem happy,” he observed.

“I am,” she said. “I really am.”

The porch light flickered as they went up the front steps. Behind the door, Mitzy barked, eager for Rose’s return.

Their kiss on the doorstep was over all too soon. “Please stay,” Rose murmured, resting her hands on his chest.

Shane stared up at the sky, face in pain. “I wish I could,” he said. “But Morris will have my fucking head if I don’t go in tomorrow.”

She nodded, and he turned around to walk home.

“Wait,” she said. He stopped on the steps and looked back at her, tentative expression on his face. “I love you. I can say that now.”

Shane smiled, a genuine and beautiful one. Rose couldn’t help but match it. 

“I love you too, Rose,” he said. “Goodnight.”

She watched him leave until his shadowy figure disappeared from sight.

When she went inside, the emptiness of the farmhouse hit her in full force, and she sighed. Normally, she enjoyed the peace, but tonight it felt lonely.

Mitzy bounded up to her, and Rose bent down to pet her fur, soft and fluffy under her palms. The dog panted in appreciation.

The phone rang, piercing through the quiet. Her heart seized, and she worried it was Marnie, calling to tell her something horrible happened to Shane on his way home. Or worse, that he hadn’t come home again.

Rose picked up the phone, hesitantly, and listened for a few beats. Her heart stopped.

“Mom?”


	7. A Bad Habit

It smelled like wet earth when Shane woke up, and he was pretty sure he had some of it in his mouth. He spit it out, then wiped the excess with his hand. As he rolled over, he knocked into cans of beer and caused a thin layer of dirt to spread over his jacket. Opening his eyes, he could see the outlines of trees above him. The sound of water gently rippling came from nearby.

He’d fallen asleep in the grass by the docks.

Son of a bitch.

His stomach rolled as he sat up and he could feel his pulse in his temples. He groaned and ran a hand through his hair, blades of grass tumbling out of the strands. The sunlight came in bursts through the leaves of the trees and it strained his eyes. He blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the rays and soothe his pounding head.

He picked up the cans one by one and stashed them inside the lining of his hoodie. Marnie couldn’t know he’d brought alcohol near the ranch.

Shane wished he knew what happened the night before, but every time he tried to recollect what he did, his mind came up blank. It was as if the time simply slipped from existence into some kind of black hole. Before his suicide attempt the previous fall, there had been a lot of nights that ended up in that black hole, but it hadn’t happened since then.

Until now. Shane knew he was headed down a slippery slope, but his shoes just skidded on the ground as he tried to slow down.

As always, things had started out innocently enough. That first night he went to the saloon after Morris threatened to dock his pay, he’d only had a few beers. It was barely enough to get buzzed, but he felt so guilty that he wound up hanging out by the old bath house until the early hours of the morning. He wanted to avoid seeing anyone as he nursed his final drink.

It was a move that earned Rose a call from Marnie and him a pissed off aunt. Not only that, but he’d lied to Rose when she asked about it. A wave of guilt washed over him, adding to his nausea.

No, not lied. He was still lying to her. To everyone.

Rose and Marnie had no idea that Shane picked up his drinking habit again, and he intended to keep it that way. To hide it from them, he begged Emily and Gus to stay quiet about his first time back. It was just him and the jukebox that night, still early enough that the regulars hadn’t drifted into the saloon yet, so the bartenders were the only people he had to convince. They’d agreed, but reluctantly. 

After that, he stuck to drinking in solitude, choosing to spend hours whittling away at cases of beer and polishing off bottles of vodka by the docks or the railroad tracks. He almost preferred it that way, keeping his dirty little secret to himself without prying eyes. 

And of course, he never drank the nights before he went to see Rose. He didn’t want to be hungover when he saw her. Guilt flooded him again as he thought about everything he kept from her.

Lying and sneaking around, like a rebellious character from a dumb fucking teen movie.

He headed down the dirt path by Leah’s house and into town, careful not to run into anyone. Living in Bumfuck Nowhere, Population: small as hell meant that people would start talking if they smelled all that booze on him. Glancing around furtively, he dumped the cans one by one into the dumpster behind Pierre’s store.

When he returned home to the ranch, Shane opened the door cautiously, peering around the door to see if Marnie or Jas were inside. They were both in their rooms with the doors closed and lights off.

He quickly stripped off his smelly clothes and shoved them into the washing machine, dumping as much laundry detergent into it as he could to get all the stains out. Then he bolted into the shower to try to wash the odor of grass mixed with sweat and alcohol off his body.

When he came out of the shower, the pounding in his head had eased up slightly, and his stomach felt settled enough to eat again. He wandered into the kitchen and started opening drawers.

“Good morning, Shane.” He froze, box of pizza clutched in his hand.

Marnie sauntered into the kitchen, taking her sweet old time. Shane knew that move—it was her go-to before she sprung a round of questioning on him, like a vulture circling its prey before diving in beak first.

“When did you get back from Rose’s?” she said. That was right. He’d told her he was spending the night at the farm before leaving to go drink. He hated himself for using Rose like that.

She walked over next to him to grab a mug to make tea in. He stepped out of her way, careful to give her a wide berth. He didn’t want her to smell the lingering alcohol on him as it seeped out of his pores.

“Not too long ago,” he said in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner. He fiddled with the tabs on the pizza box, opening and closing them.

“Mm.” Marnie said nothing else, but stared at Shane intently as she dipped her tea bag into a mug of steaming water.

Their ancient washing machine buzzed from the room next to the kitchen to signal his load of laundry was done. Shane’s eyes widened, and he dumped the box on the counter with a smack and dashed to the machine to pull the clothes out.

She was faster than him, though. Marnie plucked his Joja hoodie out of the washer before Shane could get to it, holding it up by the sleeve. “You never wash this yourself. I always do it for you,” she said, eyes narrowed. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Shane said. His jaw tightened. “Rose said it smelled bad, so I was just cleaning it up for her. That’s all.”

Marnie paused and pursed her lips. She was thinking about her next move—that’s how she was when it came to interrogating Shane, calculating and shrewd. “You’ve been spending an awful lot of nights at her place lately, huh?” she said, turning over the hoodie in her hands. “Must be getting pretty serious.”

“Yeah,” he said and watched her fingers move over the fabric with a sense of panic. Did he leave anything incriminating in the pockets? “I guess. I…”

Shane paused.

“I told her I love her,” he said quietly. At least there was something he could be honest about. 

Marnie stopped, face softening as she looked up at Shane. “I’m happy for you, Shane,” she said. “I think she’s good for you.”

Shane swallowed and darted his gaze to the washing machine. He focused on the dials and numbers and wash cycle descriptions as he tried to get his blush under control. “I think…I think so too.”

What Marnie should have said was that she was too good for Shane. Then she’d be closer to the truth of their relationship.

Marnie handed him the hoodie and he took it gingerly, feeling the soft pills on its surface. It no longer smelled like dirt. This action of giving back the clothing was Marnie’s olive branch, a temporary surrender until the next incident when she became suspicious of him. 

“By the way,” she said, returning to the kitchen to drink her tea. Surely it must be cold by now, he thought. “Lewis is coming over for dinner tonight. I invited him.”

Shane groaned. Although Lewis had never personally done anything to Shane, he could see the effect he had on Marnie. How she tiptoed around him and conformed to his wish for their relationship to remain a secret. He knew it killed her inside, though. Whenever they went to family weddings, his aunt always had this sad, heartbroken look on her face as she sipped champagne and watched the bride and groom twirl around one another.

He hated that bastard for it and wondered why Marnie didn’t just find someone else. He knew that was easier said than done in a town where everyone was either married or about thirty years younger than her, though.

Marnie turned to face Shane, one hand on her hip, the other resting on the counter. “All I’m asking is that you be polite, okay?” she said. “Is that too much to ask?”

“No,” Shane mumbled. “I’ll be nice.”

“Good,” Marnie said. “Dinner will be at six.” 

She finished her tea and headed out into the barn to go take care of the livestock.

Shane let out the breath he’d been holding in. He shoved a hand in his pocket, and with a start, realized that there was a small bottle with a shot’s worth of whiskey in there. A cold sweat broke out over his body as he realized how close Marnie had come to figuring out his secret. Or maybe she had, and she just wasn’t saying anything. She could be biding her time. 

He felt like a ticking time bomb—it was only a matter of time before these things exploded.

* * *

By the time dinner came around, the smell of freshly grilled vegetables and roast chicken filling the air, the nausea in Shane’s stomach still hadn’t gone away.

Shane pressed a hand to his head as he sank onto the mattress. His hangover was one of those all day ones that followed him around. He pulled a small metal flask out from under his bed and unscrewed the cap, sniffing its contents; there was still some vodka left in it. Enough to get him through a dinner with Lewis.

No, he couldn’t risk it. Not with Marnie around; she’d figure him out in a split second. He paused with the flask raised halfway to his lips and resealed it. Back under the bed the flask went, safe from Marnie’s watchful eyes.

When Shane emerged from his room, Marnie was puttering around the kitchen, humming old jazz songs to herself as she moved the sizzling vegetables around in a pan. He couldn’t quite name the tunes, but they pricked at the back of his mind, a faint memory from summers spent visiting his aunt as a kid. 

She wiped her hands on her apron before walking over to Shane and tugging on his hoodie with a frown. “Seriously, Shane?” she said. “You don’t own a single piece of clothing nicer than this?”

“I washed it this morning,” he protested, stepping back out of her grasp.

Marnie shot him an annoyed look. “Lewis is our guest and the mayor, so try to show him a little bit of respect, okay? Go change,” she said and grabbed him by the shoulders to turn him around and push him lightly towards his room. “And drop the wiseass attitude.”

Shane grumbled, but gave in to his aunt’s demand. He figured the more he fought her, the more suspicious she would get about his late night habits, and that was the last thing he needed. 

He walked into his room and pulled open the door to his closet. Stowed in the back corner, behind several layers of old t-shirts, was a twelve pack of beer. He tried to keep at least one in rotation at all times—Yoba, what a special piece of shit he was.

Sifting through the piles of clothing scattered on the floor of the closet, Shane pulled out an old blue polo and held it up. He fingered the fabric and sighed. It had been a gift for his twenty-second birthday, just a month before the accident. Luke had given it to him with a wink, saying his wife picked it out. Ellie always had a good eye.

He pulled it on over his head, trying to think instead about the time Rose told him it looked nice when he’d worn it on one of their dates. Then he stretched his neck, hearing it pop as he twisted it to the left and the right, before bracing himself to head into the kitchen again.

When he returned, Lewis had arrived and was making himself comfortable in the sitting room. Shane bristled when he saw the mayor prop his feet up on the coffee table in front of him like it was his own home.

“Shane!” he called out. “Nice to see ya.”

“Lewis,” Shane said with a curt nod.

He stared straight ahead at a pile of farming magazines that rested on the coffee table; Marnie tried to keep up with the latest tips and tricks to help on the ranch. The heel of Lewis’s foot dug into the cover of one of them, and Shane’s eye twitched as he watched Lewis wiggle his toes. Motherfucker wasn’t even wearing shoes.

Marnie was still distracted with the final preparations for dinner, leaving Shane to make small talk with Lewis. 

In Shane’s world, though, there was always another option: sit in excruciating silence. He was a seasoned professional at it.

After a few minutes of quiet, Lewis cleared his throat. “So,” he said. “How’s Jas doing these days? She’s getting to be quite big now, huh?”

“Yep,” Shane said, popping the ‘p.’

He turned to look over his shoulder at Jas’s room. Her drawings hung low on the door, and he noticed with an ache that she’d included the one of him and Rose as her new parents. The door was slightly ajar, which meant Jas wasn’t in there. She must be out playing with Vincent, probably under the watchful eyes of Penny.

“How’s Rose?” Lewis said with a wink. For the fiftieth time that day, Shane felt like he was going to throw up. 

He reached a hand up to rub his head. It continued to pound like a drum in time to some imaginary march.

The front door opened and in popped Jas, saving Shane from the agony of having to interact with Lewis until dinner. He expected that she’d be tired after spending the day outside the ranch, but she was instead filled with boundless energy, sprinting across the house to give Shane a hug.

“Hi, Uncle Shane,” she said.

“Hey kiddo.” Shane picked her up and placed her in his lap. His legs wobbled unexpectedly under her weight, and he realized she would soon be too big for this. The thought of her growing up pained him a little bit. “How’s Vincent?”

Jas launched into a rather animated story about Vincent stealing one of her toys when Miss Penny wasn’t looking, leaving Lewis to do nothing but listen to the ramblings of an eight-year-old girl. After all, he couldn’t interrupt without looking like an asshole.

Checkmate.

Marnie called them over for dinner. Lewis, presumptuous ass that he was, pulled out a chair at the head of the table. This was going to be a long night.

As Lewis regaled everyone with stories that centered around him and his opinions about the tax codes of Pelican Town, Shane became more and more restless. He jiggled his leg under the table and tried to keep his growing impatience under control. His head felt like it was stuck in a vise, tightening with every word that the mayor spoke.

“So, Shane,” he said. “What have you been up to lately?”

“Nothing.”

Marnie glared at him for a brief second before answering for him. “He’s been spending a lot of time with Rose,” she said. “He’s been helping her out on the farm.” 

Jas giggled. “Shane’s always at Miss Rose’s.”

Shane ducked his head down to hide the myriad shades of red his face was turning in that moment. He clenched his hands underneath the table. 

“Boy, she’s really a quiet one, huh? Doesn’t speak too much, and I never see her at the saloon,” Lewis said and shoved a large piece of chicken into his mouth. “What a shame she couldn’t be more sociable. Her grandfather was really a standup guy, such an important part of our community.”

Shane snarled and slammed his fists on the dinner table, causing all the plates and glasses to wobble. “Blow it out your ass, Lewis.”

“Shane,” Marnie hissed and tilted her head towards Jas, who shrank back in her chair, visibly scared by the scene unfolding in front of her. He could see her bottom lip wobble and felt bad, but the stars forming behind his eyes overrode his moral compass. 

“I’m sorry, Aunt Marnie,” he said. He picked up his knife and fork and started sawing at his chicken. The knife slid against the bottom of the plate with a series of squeaks. “I just call ‘em as I see ‘em, and right now I see a fucking—”

“That’s _enough_.” This time, it was Marnie who brought her hand to the table like a bomb going off. 

With a sob, Jas hopped off her seat at the table and ran to her room, closing the door behind her. Her face had been covered with tears, Shane noticed. 

_You fucking idiot._

He didn’t even bother trying to put a positive spin on his thoughts. Counselor be damned.

The napkin landed limply on the table where he threw it. Scraping the chair across the hardwood floor, Shane pulled out of the table and got up. He opened the door gently to Jas’s room. It let out a creak.

“Jas,” he said. “It’s me.”

She’d stopped crying, but he could still tell that she was upset when she spoke. “Leave me alone.”

He sat down on the bed next to her, where she lay with her face sunk into the pillow. “Jas, I’m so sorry,” he said. “I lost my temper and was mean, and I shouldn’t do that.”

“Yeah,” she said. She rolled over and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring up at him. “You shouldn’t.” 

A weariness settled over him. Nothing he did was right. This was an irrefutable fact of his life. 

“I promise it won’t happen again,” he said and stuck out his little finger. “I pinky promise.”

They linked pinkies, and Jas was satisfied for the moment. He played with her, making up imaginary worlds with her dolls and stuffed animals, until she grew tired and wanted to go to bed. He tucked her in and kissed her forehead before leaving.

When he went back into his room, he turned the knob on the closet door. The case of beer was still sitting in its corner.

Just one, he thought with a sigh as he cracked open a can. The beer fizzed and bubbled over the surface.

As he shut his eyes and took a sip, feeling the carbonation against his throat, he saw Rose’s face. He couldn’t tell her the truth because he wanted to be strong for her. But instead of being strong, he stayed weak and broken. He was made of eternally cutting glass, destined to make himself bleed again and again. 

How could he tell her that?

* * *

The grass that lined the path to Rose’s farm was tinged with orange, a sign of the fall season moving into the valley. Crisp air made Shane’s steps feel lighter, and he no longer felt trapped under the thick layers of heat that summer brought with it. 

Unlike his steps, though, his thoughts continued to weigh him down as they had since the dinner with Lewis. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way Jas’s face crumpled as she sprang from the table. He’d made his goddaughter cry, and it was all his stupid fault.

He couldn’t ruminate now, though; he was here to see Rose and spend time with her. Shaking his head, he held his fist up and knocked on the door.

“Give me a minute,” she called out from behind the closed door. Shane waited, tapping his fingers on the wall next to the door. He felt anxious and couldn’t quite place why.

There was shuffling, then Rose appeared in her doorway. As he looked at her, face flushed and eyes shining, all the clouds in his mind suddenly parted. She tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear.

“Hi,” she said. 

He moved forward and closed the distance between them.

Autumn leaves scattered onto the hardwood floors with the breeze as the force of Shane’s kiss moved them backwards into the farmhouse. She laughed against his lips, and he almost groaned, feeling himself sinking further and further into her. He never wanted to come back to reality. 

They tumbled over the armrest of the couch, shifting so that he was on top of Rose. He looked down at her, at the dimples that dotted her cheeks, and decided that this was the first time that week his miserable life was worth living. 

Some time later, Shane was idly running his hands over her bare shoulders, his face buried in her hair as he cradled her in his arms. Her hair smelled like flowers. She sighed as he pressed his mouth slowly to the skin of her neck. 

Then, as if she’d been shocked, he felt her stiffen. Shane tightened his hands around her, afraid that he’d done something wrong.

“Shane,” she said. “Can I tell you something?”

She pulled herself up on the couch, resting her back against a pillow wedged in the corner, and turned so she was facing him. His heart began to beat in double time, but he tried to keep a calm expression.

“Sure.” He traced a finger back and forth over her scar as he breathed in and out. His chest felt constricted.

“My mom called me,” she said. “After the moonlight jellies.”

Shane froze. “What did she want?”

Rose darted her gaze over his face, watching, then looked down at her hands. She wrung them together. “To reconnect. She said she feels bad about what she did.”

The corners of his lips turned down, and he scrunched his forehead up. “Do you believe that?”

“Believe what?”

“That she’s sorry.”

“Oh,” Rose said and bit the corner of her bottom lip. She released it, then spoke again. “I…I’m not sure. I don’t know what she wants, to be honest. We haven’t talked since…”

“Yeah.” Shane untangled her hands from one another and grabbed them. “What did you tell her?”

“I told her I’d think about it,” she said. “I just need to time to process and decide if I really want to see her again.” 

Shane nodded. “That makes sense.”

“It was weird. To hear her voice again. She sounds different, like, older somehow.” Rose turned away. “I don’t know. I’m overthinking all of this probably.”

He reached out and placed a hand tenderly on her cheek, pulling her back to look at him. “Hey,” he said. “You’re allowed to be confused about…this.”

She smiled. “Thanks for listening. And for being here,” she said. Her face was sheepish and her cheeks pink. “You always are.”

He wrapped his arms around her tightly, and she buried her face in the side of his neck.

There were an infinite number of ways in which Shane felt he let Rose down, but this—this he could do. He could listen to her recite the goddamn alphabet a hundred times over if it was important to her. He could embrace her like he never wanted to let go.

There was something else he could do too. He had come undone, but he could begin to sew himself back together. It ended now, Shane decided. He would throw out the flask and the case of beer tucked in his closet when he got home. He had to start making an effort to get better, to be the stable and steady boyfriend that Rose deserved.

Really, though, Rose deserved the world. And he was going to try his hardest to give her what he could, even if it was just a place in his small, sad, little heart.


	8. A Terrible Anniversary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: mild panic attack

The sterile scent and atmosphere always felt like fingers slipping around Rose’s neck and choking her whenever she stepped into the Zuzu City Hospital. The sounds, too, were always the same: the whoosh of the automatic doors sliding open and the squeak of her dad’s wheelchair moving across the tiled floors.

“James Fletcher?” They called his name with a hint of hesitation, of questioning, as if unsure whether he had lived long enough to see his next appointment.

“Please,” her dad said with a wink as Rose wheeled him across the waiting room. His voice was gravelly and rough, damaged from years of smoking. “Call me Jim.”

While her father settled into his chair, fabric squeaking as he shifted around to get comfortable, Rose took a seat next to him. Then the nurse, a petite woman with a high-pitched voice, came by to put the IV in for the treatment.

“It won’t be too bad, I promise,” she said. Rose didn’t know if the nurse realized she said that every single time. Her dad gave a grunt of assent and popped a lollipop into his mouth. He claimed it helped mask the taste of chemotherapy. 

After the nurse finished fiddling with the tubes, Rose reached into the bag next to her feet and pulled out a deck of cards, removing them from the pack. She placed them on a small table between her and her father and slid the cards towards him. Even with his shaky and frail hands he still shuffled better than her, cards slapping against one another as he formed a bridge with the deck.

War, gin rummy, go fish, poker, blackjack—they played them all, and Rose lost them all. She didn’t mind, though, because her dad told stories about growing up on the farm as they cycled through games. The only time she remembered him looking at ease during his dying days was when he talked about his past. 

As he spun his tales, she recalled her own memories of the valley from when she was a child. They would visit her grandfather’s farm and play games of tag in between rows of corn or pick baskets of apples. On special occasions, Rose would get to ride on her grandfather’s lap as he drove his tractor around. The valley always had a special place in her heart, as it did in her father’s.

The one thing her dad never talked about, though, were the times after he left the valley at eighteen, determined to escape the home of his childhood. Rose never asked about it.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I got my foot stuck in a fence?” A crooked smile played at his lips. Even though his face often looked pale and sickly, it still had life in the form of his vibrant facial expressions. “Evelyn had to help get me out of it. Poor woman. We used to call her nana because she was like everybody’s grandma, always sticking her nose in your business and making you try her homemade cookies.”

“She sounds nice,” said Rose.

“Nicest woman I’ve ever met in my life, swear on it,” he said, revealing his hand. “Straight.”

Rose laughed and threw her measly pair down on the table. “I’m not very good at this, am I?”

“No, definitely not, Rosie,” he said with an amused grin. “But that’s okay. I appreciate you tryin’ anyway, means a lot to me.”

She knew that his words had a double meaning, that he really meant he appreciated her trying to hold what was left of his life together. Every time they saw the doctor, he always said the same thing: “We don’t know how much time he has.” That meant her father didn’t have much at all.

“Anytime, Dad,” Rose said softly. When she looked at him, she thought she could see a slight mist in his eyes as he nodded, an acknowledgement of everything they’d been through together.

That was the last time she remembered him being truly alive.

From there on out, it was a never-ending downward spiral. Rose did her best to keep him happy in his dying days, but nothing she did could restore the light behind his eyes. His journey was over—she had done all she could to keep him afloat.

He spent a week in the hospital before he died and Rose slept in a chair tucked in the corner, neck constantly cramped up during the days. Together, they watched reruns of old shows he liked growing up. The technology of the TVs in the hospital was behind a few years, and every time they finished a series, Rose would have to get up and pop in a new tape.

The day before it happened, he found the energy to play one last game of cards. His hands shook violently, and it took a long time for him to make any move, but Rose cherished every second of that final round of gin rummy.

“Dad,” she said as she folded up the cards and placed them back in their deck. A few teardrops rolled down her cheeks, and she sucked her breath in. “I love you.”

“You know I’ll always love you, Rosie,” he said. He strained with each word he spoke. “No matter where I am.”

For her father, the end came without much fanfare. Rose stood by his bedside and described the valley to him as he grew further and further away from her, face losing its life. The skin of his hands was cold and clammy as she held on tightly, tears streaming down her cheeks while he faded peacefully into the chilly autumn night. 

Rose liked to imagine that in the afterlife he was in the valley of his childhood, watching over her with pride.

* * *

Less than twenty-four hours before the date Rose’s father passed away in a hospital bed, withered and resigned to his fate, the town square thrummed with an unparalleled energy. It was the day of the Stardew Valley fair, a beloved event that brought in visitors from surrounding towns to come play games, win prizes, and stuff their faces full of fried food. Children chased after one another and weaved through the people and booths, the sounds of laughter filling the air.

Shane and Rose stood in front of the “Wheel of Chance,” a cardboard circle painted half green and half orange. The red spinner rested on a patch of green.

“So sorry,” the man running the game said in a tone of feigned pity. He adjusted his purple top hat and fought off an amused smile. “I’m afraid you’ve lost fifty Star Tokens. Better luck next time.”

“Fifty? Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Shane grumbled and reached into his hoodie pocket to pull out a handful of paper circles with poorly drawn stars on them. He shoved them into the game master’s hands. “I think this thing is rigged. How has she managed to win like five games in a row?”

Shane jammed his thumb over towards his right, and Rose turned to see Penny standing nearby. Her hands were clasped behind her back, and she had an expression on her face like she was working out a complicated math problem. She stared at the wheel and squinted her eyes as she brushed a piece of bright red hair back from her forehead.

“Oh, her?” the game master said. “Yeah, one more win, and I’m going to have to ban her from playing again. Happens every year.”

“Of course it does,” Shane said and threw his arms up in the air. He grabbed Rose’s hand and started moving towards another booth. “Come on, let’s try a different game. I’m down a hundred tokens and I need two fifty.”

Rose knew what Shane was doing by dragging her from game to game: he was trying to distract her. That was the way he dealt with his own problems, crushing his feelings whatever way possible. It was how he’d formed his habits of drinking or watching TV for hours until he felt nothing at all, the ones he now worked to get rid of. She supposed playing carnival games and trying to win her a stuffed bear was harmless, but she didn’t want him to feel stressed because of it.

“Really, Shane, you don’t have to do this. I told you I don’t need a prize or anything,” Rose said. She tugged on his hand, and he stopped and looked at her. “Just spending time with you is…nice.”

“I just don’t want you to be sad because tomorrow is…” He trailed off and looked down at the cobblestones beneath his black and white sneakers. A hand reached up to scratch behind his neck; it was Shane’s nervous tic. 

“Uncle Shane.” Jas entered their conversation like a whirlwind, as she often did. She bounded up to Shane, her friend Vincent following closely behind. “Vincent and I wanna go see the animals, and we want you to come with us.”

Shane looked at Rose, who shrugged. “Okay,” he said. “Lead the way, kid.”

Jas jumped up and down, clapping her hands with excitement. She and Vincent led the way to the side of the fair, where all types of livestock and farm animals milled around behind wooden fences. The gaps in between logs of wood gave space to reach through and pet the animals. Jas immediately tried to make her way into the chicken enclosure by climbing through, but Shane lurched forward and grabbed her. 

“Christ, Jas. Don’t do that,” he said. “Just pet the animals from _outside_ the fence, please.”

After he set Jas back down, she sighed and made her way over to the chickens again. She kept a safe distance away as she poked her hand out and scratched one of them on the head.

Shane shook his head. “She always wants attention,” he said. “I know it’s because of her parents, y’know, not being around. Wish it wasn’t like that.”

“Not your fault,” Rose said and gave his hand a squeeze.

A few feet away, an old-looking horse with a gray speckled coat leaned over the top of the fence. Rose walked over and stroked the horse’s face gently. 

“I always wanted a horse growing up,” she said. “Black Beauty was one of my favorite books. I used to read it all the time as a kid.”

“Such a fucking nerd,” Shane said, tugging at her braid with a smile on his face. 

She nudged him with her shoulder. “Shut up,” she said with a laugh and turned to face him. “I hate you so—”

The words stopped cold in Rose’s throat as she looked over Shane’s shoulder and noticed a woman by the hot dog stand. She fiddled with her hands and flit her gaze over the crowds of people that passed by, briefly inspecting each person one by one. Rose took in every detail of her with sharp clarity: chestnut hair with blonde highlights and bell-bottom jeans with holes in the knees. She had a lean face, sharp nose, and dark blue eyes the same color as Rose’s.

Her mom was here, standing in the flesh, no longer a conjured up childhood memory.

Shane placed a hand on her shoulder, and she snapped her head up to look at him. His eyebrows were furrowed in concern, and the corners of his lips turned down. “Rose, are you alright? Did I say something? If I did, I’m sorry, you know how much of a jerk I can be.”

“Shane, my mom is here.” She stuttered over every word and felt a cold sweat break out over her body. 

His eyes widened. “What?”

“Yeah, she’s…” Rose choked. Her throat was closing in on itself, and she couldn’t stop it. She gestured over towards the hot dog stand.

Beside her, she felt Shane tighten up with hostility written in every note of his body language, but all Rose could focus on was the sensation of nausea that rippled through her when she locked eyes with her mom.

As recognition flickered over her mom’s face, her mouth dropped open slightly and her expression contorted into what looked like fear. She looked older and somehow sad. Rose noticed lines on her the sides of her lips and forehead that weren’t there years ago, and a few streaks of gray had escaped the wrath of her hair dye. 

Rose stepped around Shane and felt as though she was having an out of body experience, her feet moving without her control. She could hear Shane’s steps behind her as she walked over towards her mom.

“Rose.” It was a breathy, airy greeting. Her voice was just as Rose remembered it. “You’re here. It’s really you.”

There were a million questions and insults that flew through Rose’s mind in that moment, all unspoken words she was dying to say to her mom. In the end, though, she could only manage to say one word.

“Mom,” she said, flat and monotone; it was like there were so many emotions coursing through her at once that they all canceled one another out.

“I came here to see you. After our phone call, I just really wanted to…well, reconnect.” Her mom reached out to embrace her, but Rose stepped backwards. She bumped into Shane, who immediately put his hands on her shoulders, gripping tightly.

“How’s Steve?” Rose asked coldly.

At that, her mom dropped her arms and blinked a few times to regain her composure. “Steve is…” she said, enunciating every word. “No longer in the picture. I want us to just forget about him.”

 _I want us to just forget about him_. In a few phrases, her mom thought she’d erased all the damage she’d done. Rose could never forget the man who inspired her mom to take a hammer to the glass frame of their perfect family portrait. She still remembered the way her mom announced she was leaving to be with Steve just two months after her father’s terminal diagnosis; she claimed she couldn’t handle the stress. 

“Mom, I can’t…I can’t…I.” Rose’s voice started to break, bit by bit, the more she tried to speak. She panicked as she realized she was going to have a breakdown in the middle of town, where everyone could see her and watch.

“Please, Rosie, don’t cry,” her mom said, the same way she used to when Rose was younger. The use of her childhood nickname made Rose’s knees start to buckle. She concentrated on holding herself upright. “I just want to have a relationship with you again. I miss you.” 

Rose opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to speak, but nothing came out but air.

“Hey, she didn’t call you for a reason,” Shane said, words sharp and filled with disdain. He was stepping in to save her. Rose was grateful for his help, but at the same time, had never felt weaker. She stood rooted to the spot as Shane approached her mom, arms crossed and hands in fists. “Leave her alone, alright?”

The noise around Rose faded to a din, and all she could hear was the sound of ocean waves crashing against a shore again and again. She remained frozen as Shane talked to her mom, telling her to leave and never come back. Still she watched, unable to act, as her mom handed Shane a small piece of paper. He snatched it from her hands. When her mom finally walked away, Shane almost ripped it up, but stopped himself.

A hand came to the small of her back, holding her steady. 

“We should leave.” When Shane spoke, the sounds of the world came back to her all at once. She nodded, and without another word, they made their way towards Marnie’s ranch.

* * *

Outside the bustle of the town square, the valley felt cooler and less suffocating. She breathed in. After years of living with two smokers for parents, Rose appreciated the fresh, clean air of the countryside.

The water of the pond moved in small ripples as she dipped her toe into it and swung her leg gently back and forth. Beside her, Shane sat on the dock with his body leaned towards her, hand out and resting face up on her thigh.

“Okay, so this?” Rose traced a finger over a curved line in the palm of Shane’s hand. “Is your life line. Yours is broken, which means you’ve experienced a lot of struggles in your life.”

Shane snorted. “Is this supposed to be enlightening?” he said. “Tell me something I don’t fucking know.”

Rose giggled, shoulders shaking. Then she grew quiet and thoughtful. Fingers danced on Shane’s skin as she drew circles on his rough and callused palm. 

“You’ve been through a lot, but you’re a lot stronger than you think you are,” she mumbled and avoided eye contact as she spoke. She willed her voice to be strong, but she couldn’t help the way she tripped and stumbled over her words like rocks in a stream. “The way you stood up to my mom? I could never do that. Um, couldn’t do that, I mean.”

Shane shook his head angrily and stared up at the sky. “I still can’t believe she had the damn nerve to show up out of nowhere,” he said, then sighed. “I’m sorry I got mad at her. Wasn’t my place.”

“It’s okay,” Rose said. “I appreciated it, actually.”

He shifted his head back down to look at her. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m still a little shaken.” She glanced down, her face a blurry image on the pond’s surface. As the sun began its descent, the lights next to the dock turned on and a reflection of the orange glow from the lamppost appeared in the deep blue water. “It was just so unexpected.”

“I’m sorry, Rose.”

“It’s okay.”

Shane thought for a moment, then twisted to the side, reaching over into the grass to pluck a flower from the ground. What once was a beautiful lily was now brown in color and shriveled in the chill of autumn, its petals beginning to crumple up and shed.

“Here,” he said and handed it to Rose. 

She laughed. “Romantic.”

“Hey,” he said with a shrug. “Not my strong suit.”

A gentle quiet fell between them as they looked at one another with soft smiles. Rose blushed and glanced down, the look in Shane’s green eyes making her feel warm all over.

“I used to plant flowers, you know.” She rolled the stem between her fingers. “For my dad.”

“Yeah?”

Rose nodded. “Yeah. When he was sick, he always said he wanted to go see the valley again. But with his health, it just…wasn’t possible,” she said and kept her gaze trained on the flower as it spun around and around in her hands. “So I would plant flowers in my windowsill for him to look at.”

Shane placed a hand on her cheek, thumb caressing over smooth skin. “I bet they were really nice,” he said quietly.

“He loved them.” Her bottom lip started to tremble, and her eyes grew wet. “He would help me take care of them sometimes.”

She sniffled and tried to hold back the tears, but as soon as Shane wrapped his arms around her, they flooded out in waves. Eventually, she stopped fighting and gave in to the sobs that wracked her body.

When she finished, she wiped her nose on her forearm and gave Shane a weak smile. “Sorry,” she said. 

He hugged her again and smoothed his hand over her hair and back. When he pulled back, he reached into his pocket with an almost guilty expression on his face and retrieved the slip of paper she’d seen her mom hand him. It was a yellow a post-it note with numbers scribbled on it.

“I think you should have this,” he said. “So you can make up your mind.”

Rose held the note in her hands, running a finger over the figures written in blue pen. Her mom’s phone number. The only link left to her past was written on one small post-it. She folded it neatly into squares and placed it in the pocket of her jeans.

“Thanks, Shane,” she said and kissed him gently on the cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Rose.”

They sat silently by the water, comforted by each others’ presence until the valley became cloaked in darkness and Rose went home to slink into bed.

The rising sun of the next morning brought sorrow as she sunk under the weight of her grief. Her unattended flower box rested by the windowsill with nothing in it but soil, and her heart broke as she remembered her father. It was in these moments that she felt the true impact of having lost her roots. There was no one left to turn back to. 

Well, there was one person.

Rose dug the note out of the pockets of the jeans she wore the day before, unfolding the square. Her folds had left creases in the paper. She picked up the phone, and with trembling fingers, dialed the number written on that little yellow post-it. The call went to voicemail.

“Mom, it’s me,” she said. “I want to…I want to see you. Call me back.”


	9. A Rash Decision

The beady eyes of the stuffed animals arranged in a semicircle felt like they were staring into Shane’s soul as he slid onto the wooden stool, on top of which was a paper with his name on it. His knees bumped the bottom of the round plastic table that sat low to the ground. On its surface were place settings with ceramic tea cups that had flower patterns on them.

“Uncle Shane,” Jas whined. “You forgot to wear the hat again.”

Shane winced as his goddaughter shoved a tight-fitting top hat over his hair, squishing it down. It squeezed the sides of his head, enhancing the familiar pulsing sensation that plagued him that morning.

“Yeah, Shane,” Rose teased gently. “How could you?” He glared at her as she slurped from her tea cup, twinkle in her eyes. She reached into her bag and pulled out the camera she’d received from Haley, her ‘Secret Friend’ the previous Winter Star. Rose held it up to snap a picture of him, grinning wickedly.

“Don’t.” He meant for it to come out as a strong protest, but it sounded more like the defeated whimper of a broken man. The camera clicked.

Jas sat across from Shane and Rose, wedged between a giant bear and a rabbit. She picked up her tea cup and banged a small spoon against its side.

“Mr. Bear asked you a question, Uncle Shane,” she said. “It’s rude not to respond.”

“Right, uh…” Shane frowned and stared into the unblinking eyes and matted fur of the stuffed animal. His mind scrambled to remember what he was supposed to say to Mr. Bear; Jas’s tea parties always had the same script to them. “I’m doing very well, Mr. Bear. How are you?” he said in a weak imitation of a posh accent. Rose snorted beside him, and he lightly elbowed her in the side, fighting back a grin at the sound of her laughter.

Jas pressed her ear to the bear’s mouth, pretending to listen. She nodded every few seconds, causing Rose to giggle quietly. 

“She’s quite the performer,” she whispered to Shane.

Shane smiled sadly. “Gets it from her parents.”

Luke and Ellie had always been foils to Shane’s natural cynicism, optimistic balls of energy that put on a show wherever they went—of course, this was back when cynicism was Shane’s sense of humor, not a steadfast worldview.

The churning in his gut grew stronger as he thought about them. Shane pressed a hand to his forehead, but quickly removed it when he noticed Rose observing him. He forced himself to focus on the philosophical debate that Mr. Bear and Ms. Rabbit were currently having about the merits of different jump rope songs.

Rose and Jas couldn’t know that he was hungover. He was pretty sure the scent of guilt on him could be smelled a mile away, though.

He’d tried, he really had this time. After he decided to get sober again, he made a dedicated effort to follow the steps in the pamphlet and remove all the alcohol from the house, just as Marnie had all those months ago. He stayed sober even through Rose’s confrontation with her mom and the anniversary of her father’s death, determined to be there for her.

Despite his good intentions, there was always something about those late fall days that smothered him in a cloud of darkness. The previous autumn had demonstrated that clearly enough, when it drove him to perch over the edge of a cliff and wait for the courage to roll off onto the ground below. That push never came. All he could remember was the taste of wet dirt and grass in his mouth as he lay still in the rain, certain that death would come to retrieve him—until Rose came and found him. 

He just couldn’t fight off the way that winter’s upcoming return made him feel. So, he turned to the bottle again, as he was sure he was destined to do forever. 

“Well, Ms. Rabbit, I think that’s an excellent point,” Rose said as she stuck her pinky out and took another sip of tea. The sound of her voice rang sharp in his ears, pulling him back to the present. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

Jas grinned with delight as Rose played along perfectly with the scene she’d constructed. Shane thought with a pang that if he wasn’t such a screw-up, this was something he could have someday: a family with him, Rose, and Jas. He could see the days stretch before him of a peaceful life on Rose’s farm, raising chickens and planting crops. It would be a simple life too, and Shane craved the simple to escape the tangled web of his mind.

“Would you like some more tea, Miss Rose?” Jas said and held up a purple teapot with pink fairy roses on the side. It was a birthday gift from Marnie a couple years back, Shane remembered. It was right around the time Jas started hosting her tea parties.

“Of course I would. How did you know?” Rose said in an affectionate tone. Shane felt his heart swell whenever that signature warmth entered her voice. It was one of the things he loved the most about her: the way she treated the world with a kindness he lacked. 

When she set her cup down, Shane wrapped his hand around one of hers and gave her a small smile. She blushed a faint pink and his heart skipped the tiniest of beats. 

Jas tilted the teapot over Rose’s cup, but nothing came out except for a couple drops that landed with a plink. “Aw, man,” she said and pouted. “Now I have to go ask Aunt Marnie to make more.” Before Shane had a chance to respond, Jas stormed out of the room, teapot in hand.

Once Jas left, he reached over and left a soft kiss on Rose’s cheek. “You’re so good with her.”

Rose shrugged and looked down at her teacup, running a finger around the rim. “I like Jas. She’s a good kid.” She looked up and into Shane’s eyes, eyebrows knitted just the tiniest bit. “Hey, can I ask you for a favor?”

“Sure.”

She took a deep breath in, then exhaled before speaking, words nervous and careful. “If I invited my mom to come for dinner, would you be there? To help? And, um, to meet her.”

“Oh,” he said. When he’d given her that number, even though he told her to make her own choice, he hadn’t expected her to actually call it. Rose still showed her scars when it came to her family matters. “Are you sure about this?”

“Positive,” she said. “This is something I think I need to do, and I…I would really appreciate it if you came.”

He smiled. “Well, of course I’ll be there then.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Uncle Shane, Miss Rose.” A sing-song voice filtered in from behind the door. “I wanna play outside now. Vincent says that there’s pumpkins growing near his house.”

Shane brushed Rose’s braid, which had fallen to the side, back over her shoulder. “Duty calls,” he said. She nodded with a smile, and together the three of them walked into the autumn sunlight.

* * *

The walls of the waiting room at the counselor’s office closed in on Shane, yet somehow stretched out for miles before him as he waited for his appointment. Uneasiness settled in his gut as the room twisted and turned while his thoughts did the same.

Over the past few weeks, his therapy sessions had formed a pattern: he would go to the office, he would sit in the hallway, and he would wait. Then the counselor would call his name. She would ask a lot of invasive questions; Shane would feel annoyed. He would talk about his feelings. The entire time, he’d keep his gaze fixed on the lampshade and feel empty inside.

Then, when it was all over, he would look back and realize he’d made no progress. 

“Shane Newfeld.” The way the counselor spoke his name was no longer a question. It was now a statement, a guarantee that he’d be there every week for the rest of his screwed up life. 

Shane settled into his chair, adjusting the green pillow behind him. Already, he could feel himself sinking down as his feet stretched out on the carpet. It was the posture of a man who had given up, which Shane certainly had in most parts of his life.

“So, how have you been this week Shane?” The counselor adjusted her glasses, and Shane wondered why she didn’t just buy new ones if she had to fix them constantly. “Did anything happen that you wanted to discuss?”

“Not really.” He counted the grooves in the lampshade and drummed his fingers on the armrest, feeling the plush velvet fabric on his skin.

One end of the counselor’s mouth turned up in a smirk. She always reacted that way when Shane closed off and refused to cooperate; she was used to it by now. “Surely there must be something you can talk about.”

Shane propped his elbows up on the sides of the chair, hands face up in a half shrug. “I don’t know what you want from me,” he said. “I was depressed, it sucked. The end.” 

He still hadn’t told her he went back to drinking, the first or second time it happened. That was his secret to keep, he thought.

The counselor wiped the smile off her lips, pursing them instead, and deliberated her tactic. He figured it was like some game she played, like ‘what bullshit can I get Shane to talk about today?’ “How is your relationship with Rose going?”

His fingers stopped drumming and moved to grip the edge of the chair. “Good. She’s good, we’re all good,” he said between clenched teeth. “While we’re at it, Marnie’s good too and so is Jas. Just, you know, before you ask.”

“I’ve been sensing some resistance from you recently,” the counselor said and tapped her pen against her notepad as she spoke. The sound rattled in his brain. “For your recovery to work, I need you to be open and honest with me about how you’re doing.”

How he was doing. How was he doing? He was supposed to be getting better, that was the goal when he agreed to these sessions all those seasons ago. 

“I’m fine.” Shane rubbed his hands over his face, the rough stubble and scraggly hairs running along his fingers. That stupid beard always got away from him on the days when simply raising a razor seemed like too much effort. “Look, I’m just fucking tired of things that don’t _work_. Of…of doing things that change nothing.”

The counselor pursed her lips and studied Shane. It made him feel itchy and irritated and angry being looked at like that. He felt like an animal behind a glass enclosure, kids and adults alike watching as he had yet another breakdown. At least they could have the courtesy to throw him a goddamned peanut every once in a while.

He stared down at his lap and ran his thumbs over the lines in his denim jeans. Whenever he moved a finger over the pockets, he could feel the folded corners and bumps of the alcohol dependence pamphlet he carried with him. His blood pressure rose each time he passed over it.

“What specifically do you feel like isn’t working for you, Shane?” the counselor said. “Because we can always reevaluate and see if there isn’t something else that might help you cope better with your depression. We could—”

“I don’t want to fucking talk about it, okay?” The words exploded out of Shane like a shotgun being fired, and he sprang up from his chair. “Talking has gotten me nothing. Reevaluating and goal setting and reframing my thoughts has done _nothing_. At the end of the day, I’m still the same piece of shit I’ve always been and always will be, and there’s nothing anybody can do to fix me.”

It was the first time he’d ever seen the counselor visibly shrink back, curling inward towards herself instead of radiating calmness like she usually did. She blinked a few times and her mouth fell open just slightly. 

Shane felt that familiar twinge of having done something wrong, but this time he couldn’t bring himself to care enough. He stood silent in the middle of the counselor’s office, feeling nothing and everything all at once, and his shoulders heaved as he struggled to catch his breath. 

“I quit,” he finally said, voice steady and resolute. “I quit therapy.” 

When he was released from Dr. Harvey’s care last winter, after his suicide attempt, he promised to never forget the pain in Rose’s eyes when she found him by the cliff or the way Jas cried on their way home from the hospital when she thought he wasn’t looking. Just as he promised himself he’d work hard to get better. The truth was, though, Shane wasn’t very good at keeping promises.

The counselor said nothing as he opened the door to the office and walked out into that narrow hallway, feeling like he was tumbling headfirst into a storm.

* * *

The clouds of dust he kicked up on the dirt path from the bus station to Rose’s farm did little to ease Shane’s dark mood, but he knew that he needed to see her. He was afraid of himself after walking out of the counselor’s office, of what he might do to self-medicate.

Rose’s head popped up from behind a row of crops, just barely above the bushy leaves. She was kneeling on the soil next to a patch of cranberries. “Shane?” she said, lines forming on her forehead as she frowned.

“Hi,” he said, arm raising in an awkward wave. He didn’t know what to say to her or how to express his guilt over what he’d just done, and it made all of his movements jerky and uncomfortable. 

She stood up and wiped the dirt off her knees, then yanked off the gloves on her hands. They landed on the ground next to her watering can. Then, as if instinctively knowing what he needed, she embraced him.

“Bad day?” was all she said. Shane nodded. “Want to feed the chickens for me?”

Once inside the coop, Shane sat down on top of a pile of straw and grabbed a nearby hen, placing her in his lap. He began to scratch the top of her head, and she leaned into it with her beak pecking at the air. 

“My life is a goddamn mess,” he said to the hen. 

A shadow appeared long and stretched out on the dirt next to him. He didn’t turn around, but he knew Rose was standing in the doorway.

“Hey,” she whispered. She bent down and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her head into his back.

Shane closed his eyes and sighed, shoulders slumping over, and sunk into the feeling of warmth as Rose embraced him. In the silence between them, the chickens clucked as they roved around the coop. He released the one he was petting and let her run free.

He shifted in Rose’s arms so that he was facing her, eyes still closed, and pulled her into his lap. As she moved to straddle him, he felt his groin tighten accompanied by a sense of guilt. He didn’t deserve to want Rose, to desire her like that. 

In response, Rose moved in so he could hear her breathing with her lips poised over his. Shane grabbed the sides of her face and kissed her feverishly, mouths hot and wet against one another. They clutched at each other’s bodies with hands roaming all over. Her fingers danced up his chest to unzip his hoodie, and it fell to the floor with a gentle push of her hands.

Shane fiddled with the buttons on Rose’s shirt, undoing them one by one, before moving the flannel from her shoulders. She grabbed the sleeves and tugged it off before immediately diving back into Shane’s touch. He kissed the skin of her chest, her collarbone, her neck as if it were the last time he’d be able to be with her like this.

With the way he was screwing everything up, he figured it may just be the last time.

They tumbled backwards onto the ground with Rose on top of him, dirt staining their clothes. It was dirty, messy—but then again, so was Shane’s entire life. He poured his guilt into every small touch that sent shivers across her skin and every thrust of his hips. He could feel himself losing control, letting go of all the shit that circled around his brain again and again and—

“Shane,” she mumbled against his lips. He stopped cold, suddenly afraid he’d done something wrong, but she reassured him by moving up to whisper in his ear. “We should go into the house. It’s kind of…dirty in here.”

She laughed, just a small chuckle at first that grew into peals of loud laughter. Shane did the same as the absurdity of the situation finally hit him. “You’re right,” he said. “We can’t subject the chickens to that.”

Rose rolled off of him so he could stand up and offer a hand to her. Compared to their rapid movements just moments before, the short walk to the farmhouse made Shane feel as though they were wading through water.

He watched Rose as she moved in what seemed like slow motion, studying the lines of her body and the strong muscles that stretched across her back, hard won from hours of working on the farm. Her flannel shirt was curled between her fingers; she still hadn’t put it back on knowing that when they got into the house, they’d be picking right back up from where they ended. His gaze moved up along the lines of her profile, that sharp nose and delicate jaw. Like he hadn’t spent the last year and a half committing her face to memory. 

She was the most beautiful thing he knew, and he was going to lose her.

As they lay in bed together, he tried to soak in every little sound, every small contact of skin between them. Even if their love eventually shattered like a hammer taken to a glass window, he would still have his memories. That—he had to believe.

“Shane,” she said as she snuggled up against his side, placing a hand on his chest. “I love you.”

Shane closed his eyes. “I love you too, Rose.”


	10. A Homemade Dinner

“Ah, shit. Shit shit shit.” The cry came from among a row of corn where Shane hunched over the plants with a watering can. Rose watched as he pulled the can back with a sharp jerk, and the stream of water that was gushing out of the spout flung up into the air as he moved. His face tightened as he gritted his teeth and squinted up towards the sky. 

The day was cloudy with a grayness that cast itself over the valley, and dead leaves littered the ground; their colors, once vibrant and deep, were now dull. Winter was coming and the chill in the air grew more with each passing day, Rose noticed, as she shrank deeper into the light jacket she now had to wear out on the farm.

With her heart aching for a reason she couldn’t quite put a name to, she walked over and took the watering can gently from Shane’s hands. “What happened? Are you alright?”

As he whipped his head back down to look at her, he gestured towards the soil, which was dark and soaked with water. “I overwatered the plants,” he said, rubbing a hand over his cheek. He traced it over towards the back of his neck. “I killed them. It’s all my fault.”

She could see the wheels turning over and over in his brain, putting his mistake on loop; they spun behind his eyes, which looked sad and defeated. Rose wasn’t a very violent person, but she wanted to rip those wheels out and stomp on them.

“It’s alright, Shane,” she said with a small smile and smoothed a hand over his shoulder, back and forth. “It’s really okay.”

He shook his head once, then twice more. Fingers reached out to pull her hand off of him. “No, it’s…it’s not okay,” he said. “You only have a few days before winter comes, and now I’ve gone and ruined your last harvest.”

So today was going to be a bad day.

For Shane, those types of days would often come and go like seasons or a change in the weather, but lately they’d been a constant fixture in his life. When he spent the night at Rose’s place, he kept slipping out of bed to go pace around the kitchen or take laps around the farm. Sometimes, she would find him in the chicken coop during the day, just sitting on the straw and dirt and watching the animals circle the enclosure with a blank look on his face.

“Shhh,” Rose said and placed her arms around his trembling frame. He tentatively hugged her back. “You haven’t ruined anything at all.”

“I did,” he mumbled into her shoulder. “I did, I did. I just…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” These flashes of guilt, coupled with excessive apologizing for any minor transgression, had also become more common when they spent time together, and Rose didn’t know how to reassure him that none of it made her love him any less.

“Let’s do something else,” she suggested. She chewed on her lip as she thought, struggling to come up with an alternative to working on the farm; Pelican Town wasn’t known for its overabundance of things to do. “What if we went for a walk? That might be nice.”

“Okay. That might be nice,” he echoed, but it sounded hollower coming from his mouth.

“Okay,” Rose said. With the watering can placed for safekeeping on the porch steps, she laced her fingers with Shane’s and led him away from the farm—and hopefully, she thought, away from his problems for the time being.

* * *

A knock came at Rose’s door the morning of Spirit’s Eve that jolted her from her sleep. She sat up, disoriented, and glanced at her alarm clock. She’d overslept, it looked like. Stumbling out of bed, she pulled on a flannel and jeans and tried to smooth down her tangled hair down before opening the door.

Standing on the porch was Marnie, hands on either side of her hips and concerned expression on her face. “Good morning, Rose,” she said. “I’m so sorry to be bothering you this early.”

“That’s alright,” Rose said, trying to fight off a yawn. “I slept too late, anyway. What’s wrong?”

Marnie frowned, and Rose could see the wrinkles next to her eyes and on her forehead more clearly defined than ever. “Can we go inside?”

Rose stepped to the side to allow her guest to walk in and then followed after her, shutting the door carefully. “Would you like some water or tea?” she offered. Her pulse started to accelerate, brain racing with possibilities of what could be wrong—was it Shane? Or Jas? Did something happen to one of them? She tried to count her breaths, the way her therapist had taught her when she sought counseling for a brief period after her father died.

“No thank you, dear,” Marnie said. “Let me just cut to the chase. I’m here about Shane.”

“Shane?” Now her heart was really thumping, and she couldn’t fight off the image of him on the edge of the cliff, just the way she’d found him the previous fall. “Is he okay?”

Marnie gave Rose a sympathetic look, as if she’d noticed the girl’s discomfort. “Immediately, yes,” she said. “But I’m concerned about his behavior. I don’t think he’s been doing so well with his therapy recently.”

Rose released the breath she’d been holding in. So he wasn’t in danger. “Yeah, he’s been really down lately.” She pursed her lips, thinking about all the times Shane had been crabby or overapologetic recently. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Me neither,” Marnie said with a sigh. “I was hoping you might be able to help me figure it out. He’s been disappearing at night a lot, and I don’t know where he’s going. Says he’s spending the night with you, but…I don’t know if that’s true, to be honest.”

At Marnie’s words, Rose’s heart froze. Shane was telling his aunt he was at the farm when he wasn’t, which meant… 

“So he’s been lying?” she said, pulling her braid over her shoulder and toying with the split ends; her hands needed something to do so they wouldn’t start shaking. Her lip started to wobble ever so slightly, so she caught it in between her teeth before Marnie could notice.

“Oh Rose, I’m so sorry,” Marnie said, placing a hand over her mouth. “I’ve upset you, haven’t I?”

“Oh, no, it’s um.” Rose shook her head, even though tears were building in her eyes. “It’s okay. I just want him to be alright. I’ll…I’ll talk to him.”

“Only if you think that’s best, dear. I’m so sorry I’ve gotten in the middle of things here, sometimes I meddle too much.” The older woman played with a ring on her right hand. “And you best believe he’ll be getting an earful from me, alright?”

“I believe it,” Rose said. “Thank you, Marnie.” She forced herself to give Marnie at least a small smile as she left the farmhouse.

* * *

“Okay, kid. What next?” Shane sat in the kitchen of the ranch facing a pumpkin that was half carved, which rested on a table that was covered in newspaper. Parts of the paper were wet in spots where Jas and Vincent had pulled out the orange pulp and dumped it off to the side in a clusters. From the oven came the faint scent of pumpkin seeds baking, and Rose inhaled deeply from where she was sitting next to Shane, watching the festivities. The smell always reminded her of years past, when she would dress up as a butterfly or a fairy for Spirit’s Eve and knock on all the neighborhood doors for candy.

“Give him scary teeth,” said Jas. “Like fangs!”

“Why are there big triangles on your pumpkin?” Vincent said, poking a hole through one of the gaps in the pumpkin.

“Those are his _eyes_ , Vincent,” Jas said with a roll of her eyes, picking up a sharp blade that rested on the table when she saw that Shane was preoccupied with giving Rose a kiss on the cheek. “They’re not just triangles. Jack-o-lanterns need them to see, duh.”

“And kids don’t need to be using that.” Shane reached over Jas and plucked the carving knife from her hand. “Can you go one day without giving me a heart attack, Jas? Do you think you could do that for your Uncle Shane?”

Jas giggled, but gave no response, causing Shane to grumble as he returned to carving lines into the pumpkin’s outer layer. Even though he was normally happy to oblige his goddaughter, there were bits of frustration that seeped their way into his expression and body language. Rose studied him, as she often did, to see if this was going to be one of his bad days.

A calendar hanging on the refrigerator caught her eye—it was Fall 27, a year and a few days out from when Shane had tried to commit suicide. When Jas and Vincent were distracted by an argument over the jack-o-lantern’s facial features, she wrapped her fingers around Shane’s bicep and leaned in.

“Are you doing okay?” she whispered.

He frowned. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” It sounded gruff and annoyed.

Rose dropped the subject but Marnie’s visit kept replaying in her head. She’d combed over every word of their conversation, thinking about how to bring it up to Shane and ask why he was lying to both her and Marnie. Every time she tried to do it, though, the edge in his voice kept her from going further.

When night fell, the two of them led the children to the town square for the Spirit’s Eve festival. Jas and Vincent were practically bursting with energy, excited to be able to stay up so late past their normal bedtimes. The two children ran straight into the haunted maze as soon as they reached the main event; the greatest horror of the maze, of course, being the large stuffed spider that loomed around one of the corners.

“Ah, Rose and Shane. Everyone’s favorite Pelican Town couple,” Mayor Lewis called out with a jovial wave as they approached the buffet tables. “Good to see you here, participating in our town events.”

“Lewis, we come to like every festival,” Shane said, arms folded over his chest. A blush had crawled over his cheeks when the mayor deemed them the ‘favorite couple’ of the town, and Rose felt similarly embarrassed. She hated the idea of being the center of town gossip and wondered why they were still the subject of conversation after being together for almost a year.

“Right.” Lewis cleared his throat and flourished his hands towards a small keg that sat on an orange table. “Well, no matter. Can I offer you some of Gus’s world renowned pumpkin ale?”

Shane coughed, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, and Rose’s eyes widened. Did Mayor Lewis really not know Shane was trying to get sober? The town knew damn near everything else about their lives. “Um, no thanks,” he said.

“We were just going to find Jas. Right, Shane?” Rose said.

He nodded, shooting her a grateful look. “Right.”

“We’ll see you around, Mayor Lewis,” she said and led Shane by the hand to the edge of the town square, over behind Pierre’s general store. Hidden in the shadows, no one would think to bother them.

A hand tugged gently on her braid. “Thanks for saving me back there.”

“No problem,” she said quietly, enjoying the feeling of Shane playing with her hair as he moved up to finger the loose strands. They stood close together, with only a small opening between their bodies. “He’s such an ass sometimes.”

The sensation of guilt tugged at her stomach as they stood in the dark, and she tried to garner up the courage to ask about what Marnie had told her. Her foot unconsciously began to draw small circles in the dirt, and she stared down at the ground.

“Is something wrong?” Shane said.

Her head snapped up. “No, I…well, um.” She paused for a moment to try and regain control of her breathing. “Marnie came to see me the other day, and she asked about you. If you were doing okay. And she said…she said…”

“What did she say?” Even in the night, she could see that his jaw was clenched.

“That you’ve been telling her you’re spending the night with me all the time.” The words came out in a rush, jumbled and running together. “Even though I know you’re not.”

The fingers in her hair froze, then slowly disentangled themselves as he dropped his arms to his side. He stepped back from her with stiff movements “Oh.”

“What’s going on, Shane? I’m worried about you, and I just want to know what’s going on. You haven’t been yourself lately, and it’s been a year since, well…since your…” Rose trailed off, biting her lip.

“Just say the damn word, Rose,” Shane said, words spitting with venom. “Suicide attempt. I tried to kill myself.”

Rose was never quick to anger, but something about the way that Shane spoke to her in that moment made her head start to pulse, and a tingling rush ran through her body. “Don’t…don’t speak to me that way,” she said, tightening her arms over her chest. Her hands curled into fists against her body. “I’m just trying to help you. You _know_ that.”

“Yeah, and you accusing me of lying is really fucking helping me out,” Shane spat. He wasn’t looking at her, instead training his glare on the rest of the villagers, who milled around the town square. “From now on, how about you and Marnie just…let me handle myself, okay?”

Blood boiled beneath the surface of Rose’s skin, and words exploded out of her before she had the chance to restrain them. “You don’t live in a goddamn bubble, Shane. What you do affects me and it affects Marnie and it affects Jas, whether you like it or not,” she snapped. “So it’d be nice if you pulled your head out of your ass every once in a while and realized that people care about you, and it can be really fucking exhausting making sure you’re okay all the time.”

When she finally stopped yelling, there was silence as Shane’s lips tightened so much they turned white, and he jerked his head to look her in the eye. His expression in that moment was unreadable, blank, numb—something that Rose had never encountered with him before, as she’d always been able to tell what he was feeling. 

“I’m sorry it’s so exhausting for you to be with me,” he said, so low she could barely hear it. “I’ll take my leave now. That way I won’t ruin the rest of your night.”

Rose wanted to say something, to reach out and stop him from leaving, but all she did was stare as he headed towards the center of the festivities and left Rose standing in the shadows by herself. In the distance, a shock of blue hair could be seen near Pierre’s General Store. Emily. Faint shock registered on her features as she too watched Shane storm off towards the square. Emily turned back to Rose, and with sad eyes, offered her a tentative smile.

* * *

Despite her insistence that she would make the entire dinner herself and didn’t need any help, Rose’s mom showed up the following night after Spirit’s Eve with a casserole baked into a massive pan. She held it out to Rose.

“I know you said you didn’t need any help, but it’s the least I could do,” she said, and Rose took the food with a sigh, setting it down next to a bowl of salad. 

Her mom swept her gaze across the farmhouse, taking it all in. The logs in the fireplace crackled as flames jumped on top of them, creating a warmth that flared throughout the room. Arranged on the table where the food sat were two placemats set with fancy looking silverware; Rose had gone into the attic to find her grandfather’s old sets of utensils. 

“The place looks wonderful, honey,” her mom said. “Reminds me of your grandfather.”

“Well,” Rose said and pulled a loaf of bread out of the oven. “It is his old house.”

Her mom ignored the somewhat cold tone in Rose’s voice and changed the topic instead; that was just like her, Rose noticed. She was ever the diplomat, even when no one asked for it. “So this Shane, he’s coming tonight? Your boyfriend?” She was careful not to mention the incident during the fair, and Rose felt a moment of gratitude towards her mother for that.

“Yes, that’s right,” Rose said. She glanced at the time on the clock that hung above the kitchen sink. He should have been there a half hour ago. “He must be running late or something.” She’d reminded him about the dinner just a couple days prior, before they had their big blowout. 

_They were sitting by the docks, watching the lights reflected in the water, when she said, “It’s going to be the day after Spirit’s Eve, is that okay?” A note of trepidation had creeped into her voice unbidden._

_“Okay.” He reached over and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear with a smile. “Are you nervous?”_

_“Very,” she said with a laugh. “I’m glad you’ll be there.”_

The beeping of the timer that rested on the counter signaled that her meal was complete, but Shane still hadn’t arrived. She flitted her gaze back and forth between the table and the door as she made her final preparations. 

“Sweetie, why don’t we just start without him?” her mom said, pulling out a chair at the table to sit in. “The food’s going to get cold, and you’ve worked so hard on it.”

“I…” Rose sighed, and her heart started to thud double time at the thought of spending that much alone time with her mom. Where was Shane? Even if they’d just fought, she still needed him. “Okay, yeah, let’s just start.”

Rose had been afraid that the conversation between them would be nonexistent, but her mom was a seasoned veteran on holding her end of a social interaction. As she dove into the dinner Rose prepared, she asked about life on the farm and noted how the valley had changed since their visits all those years ago. 

“I just can’t believe there’s a Joja Mart here now,” she said, pinching her knife delicately between her fingers, as if afraid it would break the plate. “They really are everywhere, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” Rose said and used her fork to idly move pieces of her cranberry salad around on the plate. The nerves tumbling through her body made it difficult for her to have much of an appetite. “It didn’t open too long ago, I think it’s been open like four or five years now.” She paused. “Shane works there.”

“Oh yeah?” her mom said. “Seems like an awful place to work.”

“It is.”

Their conversation danced around those years lost to time, in which Rose took care of her father in his dying days. If she thought about it for too long, Rose would end up kicking her mom out, and they were supposed to be trying to patch up at least a small part of the hole she’d created.

The plates were empty now, and still no Shane.

Rose stood up from the table with shaking hands and feet and opened the front door with a whoosh. The air outside was still and quiet, and there were no signs of anyone moving in the dark. She stepped outside to turn off the porch light, taking one last sweeping look over her farmland to see if she could see Shane’s figure approaching the house. There was nothing out there but crops.

_"It’s going to be the day after Spirit’s Eve, is that okay?"_

_"Okay."_

The door shut with a quiet click, and Rose turned to face the kitchen table where her mom sat. She looked at her daughter with a sad expression, deep blue eyes full of sorrow a reflection of her own. The chair scraped across the floorboards as she pulled back and moved to stand next to Rose.

“Mom,” she said. “He’s not going to show, is he?” Her voice broke on the question.

“Rosie.” The smell of her mom’s floral perfume overwhelmed Rose as she was pulled into an embrace. At first, Rose stiffened, unused to the touch of her mom after so much time. Then, her childhood memories flooded in, and she experienced comfort in the arms of the woman who’d hugged her when she skinned her knee on the pavement or after she threw up during a school presentation. 

Hands smoothed over her back, and Rose began to cry. It was silent and steady, hot tears rolling down her face and onto the fabric of her mother’s blouse. Yet she made no noise, the numbness spreading through her suppressing any sobs.

When she finally pulled away, her mom reached into her pocket and offered a handkerchief embroidered with roses. She stared at it for a moment, unblinking, before accepting it.

“I carry it around because it reminds me of you,” her mom said.

Rose studied the cloth, running her fingers along the ridges of the stitching in the flowers. “Didn’t think you’d want to be reminded of that,” she mumbled. “You kept the handkerchief, but not me. Or Dad.”

Her mom didn’t say anything for a long time after, just watched Rose as she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Her gaze was careful and almost anxious.

“I’ve spent a long time trying to figure out why I did what I did,” she finally said. “And I know now it’s because I was scared of loving someone that could be lost at any moment. I was afraid, and I ran like a coward.”

“You did,” Rose said, a bitter edge to her voice. She gritted her teeth and tried to ignore those beads of sweat that appeared on her forehead when she stood up to people. “You left us and I…I don’t know if I can forgive you, Mom.” 

Her mom nodded in understanding, but a weary look crossed her face nonetheless. She smoothed her hands over the fabric of her pants, then clasped them together in front of her. “I don’t expect you to. All I ask is that you listen to what I have to say.”

Rose’s fingers froze where they were on the handkerchief. Her mom wanted her to listen, not to accept an apology or make any pretensions of forgiveness; that was a relief to Rose because those were the things she didn’t think she could offer to her mom. But Rose thought maybe she could do that, at least, just listen—it was the one thing she was good at.

“Okay,” she said. “I can do that.”

Together, they took a seat side by side on the beat up couch, and with a heavy heart, Rose recalled sitting in that very same spot when Shane told her he loved her for the first time. Why didn’t he love her enough to show up tonight? Rose blinked a few times to get rid of the mist in her eyes, forcing herself to focus on what her mom was about to say to her.

“Before I left, there were…problems between your dad and I,” her mom began, shaky breaths punctuating the spaces between words. 

Problems. What a vague term, Rose thought bitterly. She and Shane had problems, she and her mom had problems. Everyone had problems, and no one was fixing any of them. She stared down at her lap where the handkerchief still rested.

“The thing is, I spent a lot of years taking care of your father. He had a…destructive streak in him that I tried for so long to help him with. The smoking, and he used to gamble a lot before you were born.” She looked up to see her mom fiddle with a piece of her hair, a mirror of the same habit that Rose had. There was so much of herself to be found in her mother, and she didn’t know how to feel about any of it. “I loved him very much, but there was only so much I could do to fix him. He had to work on himself at some point.”

“I think I understand that,” she whispered. All of Shane’s bad days, all the times he succumbed to his depression and took it out on the people around him, ran through in her head like a bad film that she couldn’t pause.

“And then to…to have to watch him die, on top of that?” Her mom’s voice was getting higher pitched now and more manic. “I couldn’t do it, and I’m ashamed of what I did, leaving you like that. I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am.”

Afraid her mom was going to start sobbing, Rose reached out and gave her the lightest of touches on the shoulder, feeling, for the first time in two years, a connection to the woman who’d raised her. Even if it was just a small one. “It’s okay,” she said, feeling her mom’s hand on top of hers. “You don’t have to keep going.”

Her mom smiled, although it looked somewhat more like a grimace, and squeezed Rose’s hand. “You’re right,” she said. “I’ve bothered you enough tonight, I think. This was lovely.”

“Thank you, Mom,” Rose said quietly and appreciated that her mom didn’t mention Shane’s glaring absence from the dinner. 

At the door, her mother lingered for a moment, shifting the weight of the now-empty pan between her hands. “I had a really nice time tonight, Rosie.”

“Thanks,” she said. “Um, I did too.”

“Keep in touch, okay?”

Rose nodded.

As her mom left and walked out of the farmhouse into the night, Rose was struck by a feeling of loneliness that left her feeling hollow inside. She gazed out the window at the unyielding darkness that stretched beyond, wondering why she couldn’t seem to find the stars.


	11. A Self-Destructive Remedy

“A beauty supreme,  
Yeah, you were right about me  
But can I get myself out from underneath  
This guilt that will crush me?  
And in the choir, I saw a sad Messiah  
He was bored and tired of my laments  
He said, 'I died for you one time, but never again.'" - **Brand New (Limousine)**

* * *

As Shane lay in the bed of his childhood home, sheets pulled up to his chin and arms tucked into his chest, he found it nearly impossible to find sleep. The wind outside rattled the frame of the window as fierce raindrops pelted the surface of the glass, creating a deafening sound. He stared at the wall cloaked in an almost darkness, with small beams of light from the moon running alongside it, as he willed his eyes to close. He just wanted to sleep, dammit.

Even through the storm, he could still hear the tapping that came at his window. Shane peeled off the blankets around him and tiptoed over to the side of the room. He wasn’t quite sure why he was being so cautious, though, since his parents were gone on another business trip. 

Through the misted glass, Luke’s face appeared, blurry and unreadable. Shane placed his hands under the windowsill and pushed up to allow Luke to swing his legs over and stumble into his house. Small puddles of rain quickly formed on the floor as water dripped off his neighbor. 

“Jesus, Luke. Again?” Shane said, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a plain white shirt and a set of flannel pants. “Like the third time this week.”

Luke shrugged and squeezed a fist over his dirty blonde hair, wringing it out. “They started yelling at each other again. The dog ripped through my mom’s favorite shirt, which somehow became my dad’s fault because he never lets the dog out, yada yada yada.”

“All the same shit, I guess,” Shane said, sitting down on his bed. The mattress sprang as he did so, causing it to creak. 

A grin stretched over Luke’s pale face. He smiled even in the worst of times. “Yeah, well. At least we’re almost out of here, right?” he said and shuffled his way over to the doorway of the room. “Just two more seasons til freedom.”

“Yeah,” Shane echoed as Luke exited to go change in the bathroom. “Freedom.”

That was right; in early summer, they’d graduate high school and be able to move out of their hometown. They had already finished gridball season, and now a certain restlessness had taken hold in both of them, a hunger that could only be sated by gaining independence and leaving home. After graduation, the plan was to move to Zuzu City and create a new life for themselves.

Luke reentered the room looking considerably less drenched. “Thanks, man,” he said. “I appreciate you always doing this for me.”

“It’s no big deal,” Shane said. “Not like my parents are ever around to object to you staying here anyway.”

“Yeah. Parents are the fucking worst.” His friend suddenly looked downcast, eyes turned down towards the carpet as he sat down on the floor with his knees pulled up to his chest. Luke wore his emotions as something readable, tangible, every feeling evident on his face; unlike Shane, who kept everything as close to his heart as possible. 

Everything about his friendship with Luke had that same kind of symbiosis, a give and take, a yin and yang. They were opposites in every way, but had what the other one needed.

Shane stood up and walked over to the corner of the room, where a small, clunky TV sat on a wooden stand. He pressed the power button to turn it on, then reached down and started to untangle the black cords of two game controllers.

“I’m stuck on this one level of Prairie King,” he said, handing Luke one of the controllers. “It’s driving me fucking nuts.”

“That’s cause you suck at it, dude,” Luke said with a laugh. “If you wanted me to come kick your ass, you should’ve said so.”

Shane tried to maintain a stone cold face, but he couldn’t do it for long, breaking into a laugh. “Fuck you, man,” he said. “No one asked you.”

The first notes of the 8-bit Journey of the Prairie King opening theme began to play, and as Shane pressed Start on the menu, the two fell into a comfortable silence. Together, they worked to shoot down enemies, orcs and mummies coming from all directions. 

“That one looks kinda like my mom when she’s angry,” Luke commented about one of the ogres, with its bull-like horns and red eyes. 

A small laugh escaped Shane, but even so, he couldn’t help but feel sad for his friend. His home life was fraught with volatile tempers and a high school sweetheart marriage that had gone so horribly wrong. He’d never told Luke this, but sometimes Shane could even hear their yelling through the windows of their house.

Broken homes often made broken people, but Luke somehow remained positive above it all. In contrast, Shane always felt he was on the verge of collapsing under the weight of his self-imposed loneliness and developing hatred for himself.

A victory tune played as they completed the level successfully, and Luke mimed blowing on the top of his controller like it was a pistol. “And that’s how you do it, folks,” he said. “You’re welcome.”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks or whatever,” Shane said and shoved Luke so that he toppled over with a surprised laugh.

When he finally regained his composure, Luke had a strangely serious look on his face as he studied Shane. “I don’t always say this, but thanks. For everything,” he said. “You’re a good guy, Shane. Don’t ever change, alright?”

“Alright,” he replied with a slight smile. “I won’t.”

* * *

What the fuck would Luke think if he could see Shane now? A deadbeat, drunk, dysfunctional goddamn mess, not to mention a terrible boyfriend to Rose and bad influence on his best friend’s daughter. 

These were the thoughts that looped through Shane’s mind over and over again as he pushed his way through the throngs of townspeople in the square, all gathered to celebrate Spirit’s Eve. But after his fight with Rose, he wasn’t much in the mood to celebrate. He approached Vincent’s mom, Jodi, and tapped her on the shoulder.

She turned around with a confused expression on her face, understandable given that Shane rarely, if ever, spoke to her. “Hey, Jodi,” he said, clearing his throat. It felt raw and scratched. “I’m feeling kind of sick and need to go home or whatever. Can Jas sleep over at your house? I know she’ll want to stay out late with Vincent, anyway.” The sick part wasn’t truly a lie, since his stomach had started upending itself as soon as Rose confronted him.

Not that he didn’t deserve such a confrontation.

With a note of hesitance, Jodi nodded. “Okay, sure. No problem. I’ll make sure she’s safe,” she said. “Feel better, Shane.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled and ducked out of the crowd so that he could head home. 

The whole way back, he could think of nothing but how angry Rose was and how he’d caused that reaction in the most calm and patient person he’d ever met. The most loving person he knew. He’d always known from the start that he was going to screw everything up, and here it was, irrefutable proof that he had single-handedly destroyed the one good thing going for him since Luke died. His throat seemed to close and constrict his breathing so that by the time he reached the edge of the forest, his breaths came out ragged and sharp.

When he finally made it to the ranch, the lamp outside the door was still lit but the lights inside were off, to his relief; Marnie was asleep and wouldn’t hear him come in. Still, he crept as carefully as he could through the kitchen so as not to wake her. Shadows jumped along the walls, further enhancing the sensation that the world had begun to close in on him bit by bit.

The feeling of his bed brought no comfort to him that night as he stared up at the ceiling he’d spent so many hours studying in a depressed daze. Cracks spread out in the paint, the patterns he knew by heart at this point. He didn’t even have the energy to get up and drink himself into forgetting.

_“It can be really fucking exhausting making sure you’re okay all the time.”_

The words Rose had spoken to him felt like a spreading fire in his head, burning everything in its wake until he could think about nothing but the ways in which he ruined her life. The ways in which he’d whittled a beautiful and kind soul down to nothing, until she was so spent that she couldn’t take him anymore.

_“I’m glad you got better, Uncle Shane. Now you can marry Miss Rose and live happily ever after.”_

Jas’s voice tumbled through the cracks in his brain, what she said to him so long ago, and he knew that he’d let her down too. “Got better.” How could he say he got better if all he’d done was make everything worse for himself by quitting therapy and turning back to drinking to cope? He wasn’t going to get better, and he wasn’t going to get that happily ever after.

From there, his thoughts spiraled out of control until they were no longer the words of Rose and Jas, but rather the things he believed deep down inside. He could feel himself splitting into tiny pieces until he was just a useless speck in his mind’s eye.

_You’re exhausting to be with. You’re a drain on everyone around you. You’re a liar. You don’t deserve her love._

_You’re nothing, you’re nothing, you’re nothing._

These were the words that sang Shane to sleep that night. It was a fitful, restless sleep.

* * *

When Shane woke up the next day it was already mid-afternoon, but the sun was nowhere to be found. The valley looked barren outside the kitchen window, and a layer of snow, slushy and brown after being on the ground for several days, coated the earth.

Punching the buttons on the microwave to cook his half-assed omelet seemed more difficult than normal, and he kept having to clear the numbers over and over as he tried to get it right. His mind was surrounded by an impenetrable fog.

“Good afternoon, Shane.” Marnie was there at his side, ready to pounce on him like always. “You feeling any better today?”

Shane screwed up the time on the microwave again, groaned, and pressed clear once more. The beeping grated on him, although he knew it was more than just the cooking problem that was bothering him. “How did you know I wasn’t feeling well?”

“Jodi told me,” Marnie said as she popped a couple of pieces of bread into the toaster. Her tone wasn’t necessarily skeptical, but there was some questioning to it. “Said you had Jas spend the night at Vincent’s.”

“Yeah,” he said and finally managed to set the timer correctly. He turned around and leaned with his back resting on the counter, arms across his chest. “Thought it wouldn’t be fair to keep her from having fun on account of me.”

His aunt nodded as she spread butter and jam over the now-golden toast. “Good call,” she said. “Glad you’re feeling better.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled. Confusion swept over him. That was it? She wasn’t going to ask him any more questions? She believed him without any reservations? It was a miracle he didn’t deserve, considering what he had planned for the night.

The microwave dinged and he pulled his omelet out to poke it with a fork. It was squishy like it always was; he never had the drive to cook anything properly. The eggs tasted runny going down his throat.

He spent the remainder of the day in the chicken coop hiding out from Jas and Marnie. Truthfully, he was hiding from his problems too, and the impending breakdown he knew was coming. It was only a matter of time at this point.

“Oh, Charlie,” he said, scooping his favorite hen up and giving her a hug. “What have I done?”

Rose’s face flitted in and out of his mind like a mirage he couldn’t quite shake, and his thoughts circled like the chickens in the coop. He watched the animals go around and around and around until he couldn’t feel much of anything at all.

* * *

It was nightfall before Shane finally broke down; the call of the bottle was too strong for him to resist. He needed to smother his feelings before they choked him to death. He yanked the door to his closet wide open and reached wildly towards the corner, but there was nothing but dust and mothballs.

“Time to visit an old friend,” he said to no one and zipped up his jacket before heading out the front door.

Snow fell in delicate flakes to rest upon the ground and for a moment, Shane found himself swept up in the beauty of the valley as he walked into town. Even his home was too pure and delicate for him, and he felt like he was tainting it somehow.

The familiar jukebox tune and crackle of the fire greeted him as he pushed open the door to the saloon. It was a Sunday night, which meant no one was at the bar except for Pam, who cradled a glass of whiskey in her hand. She gave him a curt nod, a callback to their days of being the last two patrons in the saloon on any given night.

“Hey, Gus,” he said with what he hoped was nonchalance as he approached the bar. “Can I get a shot of vodka and whatever you’ve got on tap?”

Gus’s eyebrows shot up so far that they dove into his hair as Shane ordered. “You sure, son? You haven’t been in here for a long while now.”

“I’m sure.” Shane hoped he sounded convincing, not wavering at all.

The bartender eyed Shane briefly before conceding, and glasses clinked behind the counter as Gus prepared the drinks. He slid them across the counter for Shane to take. “Alright,” he said. “Just take care of yourself, you hear?”

Shane nodded, but had no intention of doing that. He grabbed the glasses and headed for a table near the fireplace. The heat blazed across his cheeks, and he welcomed the warmth.

“Shane.” Emily popped up from where she’d been crouched behind the bar. “You’re back.”

“Yeah,” he said with a sigh.

Emily frowned. “Everything alright?”

He tipped his first glass back and drank. The vodka burned like rubbing alcohol going down his throat, and he coughed—it had been a long time since he’d taken it straight. 

“Not really,” he admitted. Now was the time he chose to start being honest? God, he wanted to punch himself in the throat. “Can you get me another drink? Whiskey, on the rocks.”

To his frustration, Emily ignored him and kept talking. “Did something happen with you and Rose recently? I’m sorry for being nosy, I just overheard some things during Spirit’s Eve and got concerned.”

Shane pinched the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb, breathing deeply. “We’re fine, Emily,” he said. “Just get me the drink, please.”

“Okay.” She gave him one last wary look before heading behind the bar.

After she left, he reached his fingers into the pocket where he kept the counselor’s pamphlet and crushed it into a ball. There were no steps that would save him tonight. The whiskey burned just like the vodka, but it felt like relief at the same time.

He could let go. He could just be the human clump of dirt he knew he was.

Shane meant to keep count of how many drinks he had, but after a while, the empty glasses began to pile up and blur together. Emily started to walk by Shane’s table more, pretending to take his order. 

“Are you alright?” she said under her breath, wrapping a hand around his current glass as if to take it away from him. He gripped onto it tightly, and she let go. “You’re drinking a lot tonight, and I thought you were trying to quit.”

“Trying,” he mumbled, speech slurred and sloppy. “Gave up trying a while ago. Nothing ever changes.”

“That’s not…I think you should stop drinking tonight,” Emily said, lips turned down. “Gus is talking about cutting you off.”

“Cutting me off? Son of a bitch.” Shane laughed harshly and shook his head as he took another drink, polishing off the last dregs of his beer. He stumbled as he stood up and grabbed his hoodie from the back of his chair, slinging the jacket over his shoulders. “Guess I’ll just leave, then. Get drunk somewhere else, like I always do.”

“Shane, wait—” Emily called out after him, but the words fell fuzzy in his ears as he headed straight out of the saloon and into the street.

The lights on the lampposts dotting the cobblestoned paths formed bright circles that moved as he blinked and tried to focus his sight. One foot in front of the other, he told himself as he struggled to maintain his balance. He just had to make it to the ranch.

Or maybe he didn’t have to go home. Maybe he could just stay out until he froze to death, extremities turning purple and blue.

He made it to the area over by the docks and collapsed onto the ground. As he lay face up in the snow, frost-tipped grass poking out underneath, he stared at the sky with eyes half closed. Something pricked at the back of his mind. Something, something, there was something he was supposed to…

The stars that illuminated the night seemed to dance and shift under his drunken gaze, but one of them appeared to twinkle more than the others. It reminded him of the Winter Star, of a story he’d once overheard Willy tell Rose during her first holiday in town. During the feast, Willy had explained to Rose the origin of the star and something else, too—about the Winter Star appearing in the sky to guide people home. Rose had loved the story, a look of awe crossing her face, and he’d watched her with love blooming in his sad heart.

That’s when he remembered. Rose. He was supposed to have dinner with her and her mom. His eyes shot open.

As he stumbled his way towards the farm, pellets of snow pelted his jacket and the bare skin of his face. It stung, but the sleet did little to sober him up, and he could taste the booze thick on his tongue. Still, he had to go see Rose, had to apologize for being such a piece of garbage that he couldn’t even get past his own pride and selfishness to be there for her.

Images flashed in his mind of Rose alone with her mom, alone with the anxious thoughts that had surely been racing through her head beforehand. Of her looking at the clock and biting her lip, waiting for his shitty self to arrive and be the supportive partner she deserved. Of her realizing that he wasn’t going to show and the hurt she must have felt.

This time, he had no idea how he was going to make everything right. All he knew was that it was time to face the music.

His knock on the farmhouse door was loud and insistent, and when there wasn’t an answer immediately, he kept pounding his fist against the wood. The door opened abruptly, and Shane teetered forward, hand still poised to knock once more.

“Rose, I’m so…I’m so…sorry. I’m a…sorry,” he said. Spots of color clouded his vision, and he thought he might throw up on her floor as he moved into the kitchen. He heard the door shut behind him. “I’m so—”

She held up a hand to stop him. “Where were you Shane?” The harshness of her speech stung every part of him. Unlike her usual manner of speaking, there was no hesitance or uncertainty. “I needed you tonight. I really did. You let me down.”

_You let me down._

“Don’t I always,” he mumbled and stared up at the ceiling as his head lolled back, then sloppily moved back down to look at Rose. “I let ‘em all down, you, Marnie, Jas…I’m a lost cause.”

Rose froze, and the hands she had been wringing together stopped moving. “You’re drunk,” she said, looking at him with those beautiful blue eyes. They were sad, and they were angry, and Shane hated himself more than ever. She blinked a few times in succession, and he knew from the pitch shifts in her voice that she was close to crying. “You’ve been drinking again. That’s what…that’s what’s been happening.”

Shane said nothing.

“Please,” she said with shaking hands and words. “Tell me that you’ve still been trying to get better. That you weren’t just lying about everything this whole time. That I didn’t…that I didn’t trust you for nothing.”

Still, Shane said nothing, trying to control the swimming in his head. He struggled to remain rooted to the ground and swayed drunkenly where he stood. 

“Shane.” The tears were rolling down her cheeks now. “Please.”

“Summer. Summer, I’ve been drinking since the summer,” he said, everything in a jumbled mess. He tugged on fistfuls of his hair, which caused pain to shoot through his scalp. “And I quit therapy, and I’m shit, I’m just shit, I’m shit, I’m shit, and I’m sorry, Rose.”

Sleet pounded the windows as Shane breathed heavily, chest rising and falling in an off kilter beat. The world was closing in on him again, and he couldn’t fight it off.

“I don’t have anything else to give, Shane, and I…I need you to leave.” Rose’s voice, trembling and quiet, broke Shane’s heart into tiny pieces. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Shane shut his eyes, convinced he could pretend those words hadn’t just passed through Rose’s lips if he didn’t look at her face. He made sure he was staring at the ground before opening them, his blurred vision making the floorboards appear in pairs as he turned around and stumbled out of the farmhouse, skin chilled to the bone in the sudden cold.


	12. A Lucky Tea Leaf

As the door slammed shut behind Shane’s retreating frame, Rose closed her eyes and sank to the floor, knees weak and wobbly. She counted breaths. One, two, three, four, five. Inhale, slow exhale. Inhale, slower exhale. Relax, relax, relax.

She opened her eyes and stared out the long glass window that stretched along the back wall. Dark clouds hovered over the valley and unleashed gusts of sleet that sounded like rampant bullets. Rose could feel a chill running through her body that mirrored the weather outside.

_"I can’t do this anymore."_

She wished it wasn't true. 

Her forearms ached from the imaginary weight of having held Shane up for so long, and she wondered why they didn’t feel lighter now that she’d told him how she felt, how she couldn’t keep bearing all the burdens of his struggle. She’d longed for so many years to be able to share her feelings freely and without abandon, and never more so than in her relationship with Shane. Rose could be vulnerable with him—the amount of times she’d cried in front of him or talked about the pain in her heart was too many to name—but the thought of confrontation made her chest seize in an indescribable way.

After all this time, she’d finally done it: told Shane in no uncertain terms when he’d hurt her. She couldn’t help but feel that she’d found her voice in a moment she wished hadn’t happened at all. 

The fight. The dinner. The fallout. It all circled the drain of her mind.

She slowly brought herself to her feet, her whole body shaking just slightly, and walked down the hall. Just next to the doorway of the bedroom, she nudged a gray t-shirt with her foot by accident, and she bent down to pick it up, smelling clean laundry and pine. It was Shane’s shirt. A memory flashed through her mind, of laughs between kisses and clothes thrown hastily to the side.

Closing her eyes and clenching her jaw, she balled the shirt up and threw it across the room, where it landed on the wall above her bed and slid down to rest on top of the sheets. Tears came to her eyes hot and steady. He was everywhere she looked. In such a short amount of time, Shane had entrenched himself so deeply into her heart and her life that she found it impossible to let go, to forget about the way he accepted her without any conditions attached. 

He loved her. Right?

_Then why did he lie?_

Rose turned around, left the room, and headed for the kitchen. She opened the cabinet above the sink, pulling out a bottle of vodka. The clear liquid sloshed around as she slammed it on the counter with a bang and twisted the cap off to pour a shot. She didn’t drink very often, but when she did, she always started with the liquor. The vodka swirled as she moved the glass in a circle. She drank it quickly, but the liquid seemed to slide down her throat like slow embers. 

She wondered if it was like this for Shane when he succumbed to drinking, like all his problems could be erased by washing it down with alcohol. No, she _needed_ to know. Maybe then she could figure out why he’d picked the bottle over her. Over being a good partner. Over telling the truth. 

She poured another shot.

Next came the red wine. She ran a finger over its label, the sketchy outline of a grape vine drawn on its front. Her dad primarily drank beer and scotch, but this was the only type of wine he would drink. 

“Rosie,” he would say as he uncorked the bottle. Her earliest memory of this happening was when she was thirteen. “When you get to be drinkin’ age—and not a moment sooner, by the way, don’t need you underage drinking, now—there’s no better wine than this. Only drinkable one out there.”

She would smile and join him in the living room as he drank and shuffled cards. Drinking the wine now, she missed those nights filled with laughter and the bonding of family. Back when she had a home filled with more than just herself and a dog. 

The cork came out with a pop as Rose twisted the wine opener down, then pulled up, and red wine danced and licked the sides of the glass as she poured. Once the glass was full, she left the opened bottle on the counter and went to sit on the couch. It was going to be a long night, and she was just getting started.

After all, Shane never ended his nights with just one drink, did he?

As she thought and drank and tried to figure out where it had all gone wrong, events that she’d relegated to the back of her mind started to make sense—the late night call and visit from Marnie, the excessive guilt, the secrecy. In the rearview mirror, the image always sharpened. 

One glass of wine became two, two became three, the water of Yoba turned into wine and it flowed through the night. Rose’s thoughts grew fuzzy and buzzed in her brain as they reduced down to their simplest components, and all she could think about was Shane. She could see why he loved the act of drinking more than he loved her—it dulled something in her, made her blurred around the edges. 

It made her numb, and that must be what Shane desired above all.

* * *

Every winter, without fail, the residents of Pelican Town dragged sets of decorative lights and tinsel-wrapped Winter Stars out of their basements to adorn their homes and yards. The day after Spirit’s Eve was always filled with the squabbling of family members as they fought about the best way to arrange the lights on a shrub or about who should go on the roof to place the star atop the house.

At night, the decorations made for magical surroundings. The lights strung up on houses twinkled in the winter night as Rose ambled her way through the town square, lugging a knapsack full of gems on her back. The bag was heavy over her shoulders, which began to grow sore as she crossed in front of Dr. Harvey’s clinic.

Journeying to the mines for the first time since her accident last winter had become something of a pilgrimage for Rose, something she did to prove to herself that she wasn’t weak, that she could stand on her own without Shane. At first, she’d spooked at every unknown sound and critter, but she soon fell into a steady pace as she broke rocks with her pickaxe in search of rare gems and ores. It made her feel strong and powerful, arm muscles rippling, as she smashed the stones to pieces. She left the mines empowered for the first time since her fight with Shane. 

Through the darkness, she could just make out a figure moving towards her. The outline of a man wearing a loose hoodie and shorts. Of course—why would fate have anything else in store for her?

They both froze at the same time and stared, green eyes boring into blue. Rose swore, in between the flakes that fell gently from the sky, that she could see his heart beating in time with hers. It thundered in the silence.

She knew he was thinking about that night nearly a year ago when he’d found her bleeding and wounded from a trip to the mines. That same flicker of fear crossed his face, then disappeared as if wiped away. 

Rose fumbled with the gem she’d been holding in her hand, feeling it slip from her grasp. It dropped and rolled across the cobblestone to rest by Shane’s feet, where its red shine cut through the night. After a moment’s pause, he bent down and took the gem in his hands, cradling it as if afraid it would break—the same way she had once held him. 

He stepped forward and stopped, waiting for her reaction. She did nothing. He moved closer until he was within arm’s reach.

“You dropped this.” His voice was soft, barely louder than a whisper.

She reached out and took the gem from his hands, careful not to brush her fingers against his skin. Tension crackled like fire and ice mixing together between them, filled with all the words that lay just beneath the surface that remained unsaid. 

“Thanks,” she said. It was cold, calculating, and unusual in tone for her. She could tell by the way Shane seemed to recoil away from her, as if unsure whether he was speaking to the same person he loved. Or the same person he _had_ loved, she corrected; people who loved one another didn’t lie like he did. That was what she kept telling herself. What she had to keep telling herself.

Even as she tried to maintain a distance from him, she couldn’t help the way her heart longed to reach out to him. To embrace him again, to pull out some magical wand and erase all the heaviness inside that stopped him from truly loving her. She could do none of those things, and yet she wanted for it.

He said nothing after she took the gem, just watched her face in its glow. She wished he would say something, but at the same time, wondered why she didn’t just walk away and give herself the space she needed.

She cleared her throat, and at last, he spoke. “I’m sorry,” he said, staring into the center of the gem to avoid her gaze. “I really am.”

“Sorry isn’t going to make this right, Shane.” She closed her eyes as she said it. “You…you hurt me.”

It was a far cry from that fight they’d had so long ago on her farm, when he snapped at her after playing with Jas and they’d ignored one another for a week. Rose didn’t want to run anymore; she didn’t need to hide.

“What can I do, then?” he said, still quiet and soft. He sounded like he was about to cry. “To make it right. I don’t…I don’t want to be a screw up anymore.”

“You need to get better,” Rose said. These days, words just seemed to fall out of her mouth as she thought them, and she didn’t know how to feel about that. “Not for me, but for yourself and for Jas and Marnie. You owe it to them, at least.”

At the words ‘get better,’ he winced just slightly. “Don’t I owe it to you, too?” he asked. The expression on his face looked like a wounded deer or a lost puppy, and it softened the edges of her heart—but not enough for her to just forgive him like that. She still hurt inside.

She shook her head and stared up at the sky. “We shouldn’t be talking like this,” she said as her lip began to wobble, and the spell, or whatever it was that had passed through them, was broken. “I…I still need some time. I think it’s best if we stay away from each other for a while.”

Shane stepped back, putting more space between them than there had been in a long time. Then again, hadn’t the distance been growing for so long now? She just hadn’t been able to see it.

“Okay,” he said. A nearly-escaped sob punctuated the sound, and Rose ached. Nothing about this was easy.

Before either of them could do something they’d regret, they separated. Rose went back to the farm, alone, and tried to pretend that the look on his face when she told him she wanted space didn’t feel like poison.

* * *

“I don’t think I’m very good at this,” Rose said as she examined the block of wood she’d been chipping at for the last hour. Despite the fact that she worked on a farm for hours everyday, exhaustion had set in after working on the sculpture for less than half a day. She chewed her lip nervously as Leah looked over at her work to inspect it.

The once over that Leah gave the hunk of wood, which was supposed to be a flower but looked more like a bashed in face, told Rose everything she needed to know about her artistic abilities. “No, it’s…it’s getting there, I think,” Leah said, voice a smidge too high.

Rose laughed. “Come on, Leah,” she said, turning the knife she was using to chisel the wood over in her hands. “You don’t have to lie to spare my feelings.”

“Art isn’t about talent,” Leah said with a delicacy that suggested to Rose that talent did, in fact, matter a lot. “It’s about expressing yourself and letting out all those negative emotions inside you.”

The smile that had been forming on Rose’s face fell. “I told you I’m fine. Everything is…fine.”

Leah hopped down from the chair she’d been standing on and offered a hand to help Rose do the same. Then she headed into the kitchen, pulling leftover homemade pasta salad from the refrigerator. Rose glanced at the clock and noticed it was well past dinner time, the sky outside already flushed with darkness.

“You guys just broke up, Rose,” Leah said as she scooped out plates of food for them. She looked down at the pasta salad sheepishly. “Sorry I don’t have a better meal for us to eat. I’ve been having trouble finding good ingredients during the winter.”

“It’s alright. This looks nice,” Rose said. They took seats at the table across from one another. “But seriously, don’t worry about me, okay? I…I’m doing alright.”

She was lying. Since running into Shane on her way back from the mines, the heartbreak had become more pronounced. Every night, she returned to that empty farmhouse and wished that someone was there. That he was there.

“Okay.” Leah took a bite of the pasta and chewed slowly. Rose said nothing. Leah swallowed and spoke again. “Well, if you need me, I’m here for you.”

“I know.”

Leah smiled, close-lipped but warm, and started to talk about the new recipes she wanted to try in the spring when the wildlife bloomed again. She could forage more easily then. Rose nodded and followed along, investing herself in every word so as to forget her own pain.

When she finally had to leave, she stepped outside Leah’s cabin and was greeted by a violent snowstorm. Cold wind whipped her cheeks in furious blasts as wild flurries of snow raged around her, creating a whirlwind of winter fury. 

Rose wasn’t quite ready to go home, though, even with the terrible weather; the farmhouse had grown colder and emptier with each passing day, and she didn’t want to go back there only to face the loneliness that had settled within her. She turned and walked towards town.

As she passed by Emily and Haley’s house, lights making the inside visible in the dark night, she glanced inside. Haley idly brushed her hair in the living room while colors flickered on the television. Her expression was blank, like she was lost in thought. A few seconds later, her sister walked towards the room carrying a bag of what looked like quinoa chips.

Rose told herself to keep moving, but found instead that she remained rooted to the spot, suddenly desperate to see other people happy. To escape from her own loneliness, even if only for a second. That was when Emily turned to glance out the window, and they locked eyes.

Rose still didn’t move.

Several seconds later, the door to the house opened and out stepped Emily.

Emily looked at her the way Rose had seen her take in the sight of an injured bird she found a few weeks ago in street—like she was fragile, breakable, wings clipped and unable to fly. Her eyes flickered over Rose’s face and the frozen tears that coated her face, which mingled with red cheeks and the sucking in of cold breaths. 

“Are you alright?” she asked.

Rose nodded, but she knew her face still gave her away. “I’m fine,” she said with a weak smile. “I was just, um, going for a walk. Nice night and all.”

“Rose.” Emily pointed up towards the sky, where snow was falling in blinding swirls. “This is a literal blizzard.”

A laugh escaped Rose, a small one, and she reached a hand up to brush at stray tears that dotted her cheeks. “You’re right,” she said. “It’s awful out here.”

Emily grinned, cheeks stretching fully, and Rose wondered what it was like to be able to give such happy, genuine, optimistic smiles to everyone. “Why don’t you come inside?” she said. “I hate to see you so sad, out here in the cold all alone.”

Rose held her hands up in front of her and shook them. “Oh, um, I don’t want to be a burden or anything.”

“Never. Come on in,” Emily insisted and waved her in. “Don’t make me come out there and drag you in.”

Rose didn’t think fighting with Emily would yield any other outcome, so she tentatively stepped into the house, warmth instantly enveloping her. She gave a small wave to Haley, who nodded in response and offered a small smile. Rose knew everyone thought Haley was stuck up, but the two had a mutual respect for one another; mostly because they both minded their own business and stayed out of each other’s way.

Emily pulled out a chair for Rose to sit in at the kitchen table and set a kettle on the stove. When it whistled, she poured a mug of steaming hot water and let the tea leaves soak in it.

“I heard you and Shane aren’t talking anymore,” Emily said. 

So that’s how it was going to be, Rose thought. No beating around the bush with her.

“Yeah,” Rose said. “We, um…” She stared at the kettle on the stove and swallowed. Something about Emily’s forward, yet kind nature made Rose want to confide in her. “We had a huge fight and then an even bigger one. He…he missed a really important event I needed him for. Got really drunk instead.”

“Was that the night he—” Emily trailed off and shook her head. “I saw him at the saloon, and I tried to cut him off, Rose, I promise you. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Emily.” Rose smiled sadly. “Thank you for trying anyway. It is what it is.”

“Here’s the thing,” Emily said, setting the mug of tea down on the table. It made a scraping sound against the wood as she slid it across, and Rose took the warm drink in her hands, heat flooding into her numb, pale fingertips. “I remember when Shane first moved into town. Wouldn’t talk to anybody, wanted nothing to do with the town, and he always looked so sad. But I’ve seen in a real change in him since he met you. He loves you, Rose.”

Guilt filtered in at Emily’s words, and Rose felt as though she’d somehow let Shane down. That because she couldn’t help him heal, she’d failed. It was a thought she had every day. She gave a small shake of the head as she stared into the contents of her mug. “I know, I just—”

Emily held her hand up. “But you also don’t have to be his doormat, okay?” she said. “I’ve watched him struggle for years as his drinking got worse. There was a time when he closed out the saloon almost every night, and I know that he definitely isn’t be the easiest person to deal with. But I want you to know I heard what you said to him on Spirit’s Eve, and I think it’s a really good thing that you stood up for yourself.”

“You do?” Rose said, then took a long drink of her tea, the hot liquid spreading through her body and warming it. She flexed her toes, which slowly started regaining feeling as she drank the tea. 

“Absolutely.”

The tiniest seed of pride began to grow in Rose. She had stood up for herself—the same girl whose knees shook so hard they knocked together when she had to speak in public, the same girl who shrank back in her cubicle when difficult customers called at her old job, even when she knew they couldn’t see her. In a way, it felt good.

It felt hopeful. She was strong.

Emily flashed that grin again. “Now let’s talk about something else, okay? I don’t want you to go home super sad or anything.”

As they continued to make conversation, Rose found that she quite enjoyed Emily’s company. The two of them had an easy rapport, with Emily mostly talking while Rose listened and sipped her tea. Every once in a while, Emily would ask Rose a really thoughtful question about herself, and Rose could see why everyone in town liked her.

The last sips of her tea being drained signaled to Rose that it was time to go home. She had just started to say thank you when Emily stopped her and took the empty mug in her hands.

“Wait,” she said. “I like to do readings sometimes. Do you want me to do yours?”

Rose furrowed her eyebrows. “Readings?”

“Yeah,” Emily said, tilting the mug towards Rose so that she could see the patterns of tea leaves on the bottom of it. “Like tea leaf readings. It’s really fun and can be super accurate, I’ve found.”

Rose didn’t know if she believed that last statement to be true, but she decided to humor Emily. She sat back down and said, “Okay. Sounds interesting.”

“Oh, it is,” Emily said and smiled. She moved the mug back and stared into it, a concentrated expression on her face. Then, satisfied, she held it up so that Rose could look in and pointed at the leaves with her pinky finger. “Okay, see how this looks like a butterfly?”

Rose nodded. It kind of did, she supposed. Maybe if you squinted.

“It symbolizes success and happiness.” Emily’s eyes shone, exuberant and bright. “See? Good things are coming your way, Rose. You just have to believe.”

A lightness touched her heart in that moment, in a way that hadn’t happened in a long time, and a slight mist came to Rose’s eyes. She blinked a few times and smiled. “Thank you, Emily. For everything tonight.”

“Anytime,” said Emily.

The cold no longer seemed as biting when Rose left the house to trudge up the path to her home, and the blizzard was over, leaving a stillness in the air. The walk home was peaceful, and a content feeling settled over her.

Right before Rose pushed open the door and went inside, she turned around and looked out over the farm, its land covered in a fresh layer of snow. Even though all the plants and flowers were dead, smothered under the blanket of winter, she supposed there was still the promise of a new day in store for her. Things could get better. She could stay strong.

She just had to believe.


	13. An Overdue Revelation

The moon never looked more menacing than it did on those nights after his falling out with Rose, when Shane would stay awake for hours on end staring out the window of his room. Silvery threads weaved their way through the sky, then twilight arrived to bridge the gap between morning and night, gray blooming into a sea of oranges and pinks. It was only after the transition that Shane could find some sort of peace and get what little hours of sleep remained before his shift at Joja Mart; although these days, he often missed work entirely.

Shane took another pull from the drink in his hands and watched the sun rise on another goddamned day. He set the bottle down on his end table with a small thud, capped it, and shuffled underneath the covers of his bed. It was time for him to go to sleep and he was grateful it was Sunday, since that meant he didn’t have to get up early.

When he woke again from his fitful rest, it was about noon. He ambled his way into the kitchen, rubbing two fists over his eyelids and yawning; his eyes, he knew, were permanently red at this point from lack of sleep. When he opened them, Marnie stood behind the kitchen table, perfectly still. 

She gestured towards the wooden chair across from her. “Shane. Have a seat.”

She’d been waiting for him.

As Shane slid into the seat, Marnie moved her hand from behind her back to reveal the almost empty bottle of rum and place it on the kitchen table with a bang. The last sips of the alcohol rocked back and forth in the glass as it settled. “You wanna tell me how long this has been going on?”

Shane coughed and sputtered, previously sunken eyes nearly popping out of his head. “Where the hell did you get that?” He snatched the bottle from the surface of the table and examined it.

“You left it on your end table.”

Shane looked up with a frown. “You went into my room?”

“Come on, Shane.” At this point, Marnie had her hands on her hips and was staring him down him with an expression of weariness. “All you’ve done since your fight with Rose is lock yourself in your room and sulk, on top of all that lying and sneaking around you did before. I had reason to be concerned.”

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but could find no words to say. Nothing Marnie accused him of could be denied. He bowed his head as he thought about the tangled web he’d weaved over the past couple of seasons, the mess of his life seeming like a stubborn knot that wouldn’t come undone. It flooded him with guilt, and he thought he might throw up on the kitchen table.

“How did you know Rose and I got in a fight?” That was the only thing he could think to ask; his mind was swirling from both Marnie’s confrontation and the booze he’d ingested the previous night. He curled his hand around the length of the bottle and rubbed his thumb on the glass. 

Marnie sighed and rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. It was an exasperated move unusual for his patient aunt. “Shane, if you don’t think everyone knows what happened by now then you’re just being delusional at this point,” she said. “Like it or not, you live in a small town. Word gets around.”

Shane logically knew this to be true, but it didn’t mean the fact annoyed him any less. Nobody ever minded their own damn business in Pelican Town, and they sure as hell weren’t going to look the other way as the town drunk ruined his life before their eyes. “Right,” he mumbled.

“So.” The voice was insistent and prodding. Shane avoided eye contact. “What’s been going on?”

He blinked a few times. She’d just asked him a question that he wasn’t even sure he knew the answer to. The web appeared in his mind again, and he found it impossible to separate the threads. He didn’t quite know where he could even start, but he eventually decided to go with the truth, even if it was only to get his aunt off his back.

Shane exhaled through his nose and slumped over. “I quit therapy,” he said quickly, wanting to get this confrontation over with as soon as possible. He desired nothing more than to slink back into his room and avoid having to climb out of the deep hole he’d gotten himself into. “And I lied about my drinking. I’ve been doing it since the summer. Rose found out and we broke up.”

Marnie threw her hands up and brought them back down to smack against her sides. “Well, can you blame her?” she said. “She trusted you, and you broke that poor girl’s heart.”

“I know,” Shane said, his voice rising, then quieting again. “I know. I brought all my shit problems into her life.”

“I don’t think that’s…” Marnie trailed off and pursed her lips. The hands returned to their spots on her hips, and she trembled ever so slightly with anger. “So what, you’re just done with recovery now? That’s it, you quit, you’re moving on?” 

“I’m just no good at it. I tried, I really did, and nothing worked,” he said. The tears that sprang to his eyes surprised him, and he bit his lip to keep them from falling. The fingers on the bottle moved up and down in a nervous twitch. “I thought…I…” 

Marnie raised her chin and tilted her head just slightly to the side, waiting for him to go on. “You thought what, Shane?”

“That if I was with Rose and she loved me and I loved her, then maybe…maybe I would be happy. That I could be better.” His mouth hung slightly open after he said the words he’d thought for so long but never truly allowed himself to acknowledge or feel. He closed his mouth and inhaled deeply through his nose, then exhaled in a long, steady sigh.

Something deep inside Shane snapped and bubbled to the surface. In the moments that followed, he finally told his aunt of all the messed up shit he had racing around in his brain, of his problems with Rose, of the way he loathed himself and how it made him feel as though he was sinking under dozens of heavy weights. Marnie listened, saying nothing as he talked for what seemed like endless minutes. When he finished, she still kept quiet and watched him with something he thought might have been a mixture between anger, pity, and sorrow.

“I’m so sorry, Aunt Marnie,” he said, the words sounding choked coming from his mouth. Tears flowed freely, and he covered his face with his hands so that his aunt wouldn’t see him cry. “What have I done?”

Marnie circled around the table to place a hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles. “It’s alright, Shane. You made a mistake,” she said quietly. She sounded choked. “But it’s not too late to make it right.”

The tears continued to run down his face, and he swiped the back of his hand aggressively over his cheeks to get rid of them. “No, it’s too late. I lost her, and if I don’t have her, I don’t know…I don’t know that I’ll be able to keep going.”

His aunt fell silent, her features softening as a heartbroken look overtook her face. “Oh, Shane,” she said. “Love can’t fix your problems. As much as we might want it to, it never will.”

Shane propped his elbows up on the table and ran his hands over his face. He then faced Marnie, letting out a weary sigh. “Then what will?”

She nodded her head towards him and gave a small smile. “You. You will.”

For the first time he could remember in a long time, he experienced a moment of clarity, and a light seemed to filter through the darkness clouding his mind. 

There was always time to start going forward again.

He could take control.

In that moment, Shane knew what he had to do: he had to get better. For good this time.

* * *

When the early hours of night descended, Shane opened the door to Jas’s room. She sat in bed, white sheets with blue fairies on them pulled up over her propped-up knees. A pad of paper rested on top of her legs and she drew with the pencil in her hand, creating sharp lines mixed with broad strokes. Her tongue poked out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrated. It reminded him so strongly of Jas’s mom, of the way that she used to pull out a sketchbook at a moment’s notice. 

“Hey, kid,” he said, poking his head around the edge of the door. “Can I come in?”

Jas looked up, annoyance evident in her eyes at Shane having interrupted her artistic flow. “I guess,” she said. Then she brightened. “But only if you tell me a bedtime story.”

“A bedtime story?” Shane walked into the room and sat down on the end of the bed. “You know I’m no good at those, Jas.”

“That’s not true,” Jas huffed. “You tell the best stories, Uncle Shane.”

Shane shrugged and stared at the ceiling. “Whatever you say, kid,” he said. “What do you want me to tell a story about?”

Jas set her paper to the side, pencil rolling on top of it, and clapped her hands. “I want to hear about you and Daddy. From when you were my age.”

His eyebrows shot up and he realized he couldn’t remember the last time that Jas wanted to talk about her parents. Normally, she kept that subject tucked close to her tiny heart, still too small to fully process the magnitude of the loss she’d experienced. Marnie and Shane tried to avoid talking about Luke and Ellie around her.

“You sure?”

Jas nodded, resolute. “Yes.”

Shane retreated into his mind, digging up all the lost and buried fragments of his past with Luke; there were mountains to sort through. Childhood moments of days spent exploring their neighborhood on bikes and pretending to be cops or whatever action hero they thought was coolest at the time. He felt wistful and nostalgic for that simpler time when things didn’t always feel like they were caving in on him.

In the flurry of memories, one stood out among the rest, and that was the story he began to tell.

It was a summer day, sun scorching the asphalt that paved the roads and driveway in their old neighborhood, and Luke and Shane had gone for a bike ride to the woods. Lost among the roots of the trail, Shane always felt at peace.

At one point, as they lingered in the forest, Luke looked up at one of the trees and pointed to the very top. “Let’s climb it,” he’d said. In those days, fear didn’t live in Shane’s heart the way it did now and he agreed immediately.

They shuffled up the tree, eventually making their way to one of the low-hanging branches where Luke sat. He patted the branch below him and told Shane to sit, but the wood snapped underneath Shane as he moved towards it. In his recollections, Shane couldn’t remember what it had been like falling to the ground—only that the grass and dirt felt like concrete underneath him as he crashed into the ground. Shane’s arm bent at an odd angle, and excruciating pain coursed through him. All he could do was moan in pain as Luke called down to him. 

Within seconds, Luke made his way down the trunk and examined Shane’s arm. Then, springing into action, he carried Shane the two miles back to his house, where Luke’s parents took Shane to the hospital. In retrospect, a broken arm and a bruised back seemed inconsequential, but Shane remembered the scared feeling that coursed through him as he thought about being stuck on that forest floor forever. 

Luke had saved him, though. He’d brought him home. They always had each other’s backs and that was the part of their friendship that Shane missed above all.

“That was a nice story,” Jas said and grinned, satisfied with Shane’s storytelling skills. She leaned back into a fluffy pillow.

In the silence that ensued, Shane tried to work up the courage to tell Jas that he was leaving the next day. After his conversation with Marnie, he’d called a rehab facility in Zuzu City and made arrangements to stay in one of their short-term programs. He needed the help, and it wasn’t serving him to ignore that need—it had cost him his relationship with Rose, one of the few precious things he had in his life. He didn’t want to lose Jas, too.

“Jas.” He took a deep breath in and then out to calm his sudden nerves. His hands were shaking, and he ran them along his jeans to keep them steady. “I’m going to be gone for a little while, okay? I need to…to go get better. Remember, like how I did last fall? Only this time I need more help to do it.”

“Oh.” Jas bit her small lip and looked down at her lap. She grabbed a small fistful of the sheets on her bed. “But you’ll come back, right?”

He planted a kiss on her head. “Of course. I’ll be back before you know it,” he said.

“Pinky promise?” Jas stuck out her little finger. 

“Pinky promise,” he said and hooked his finger with hers. “Just don’t get up to too much trouble while I’m gone, okay?”

She giggled and hugged her stuffed unicorn closer to her chest. “Okay.”

Shane rumpled Jas’s hair with his hand and smiled as he stood up from the bed. “Goodnight, kid.”

“Goodnight, Uncle Shane.”

As Shane closed the door on his way out, he closed his eyes and sighed. He was going to miss that little voice. He had to remind himself it was only temporary.

* * *

“I’m proud of you, you know.” 

Shane glanced up from where he was folding a small pile of shirts to pack into a black duffel bag. He’d done his best to keep all his clothes neat, but he was so abysmally slow at folding them that he was about three seconds away from just shoving everything in the bag, wrinkles be damned.

“Thanks, Aunt Marnie,” he said. 

She leaned against his doorway, arms tucked against her chest. “I think you’re doing the right thing. Not just for you, but for Jas too.”

Shane paused and scratched at his neck. He kept his gaze down at the pile of clothes. “I think so too,” he said hoarsely. 

He suddenly found it hard to breathe at the thought of being away from Marnie and Jas for so long. Even though he hadn’t come to live in Pelican Town of his own volition, somewhere along the line it had become his home and this was his family. This was where he belonged.

There was no possible way that Shane could think of to show his appreciation for everything his aunt had done for him, so he settled for a hug instead, wrapping his arms around her. She squeezed back, and as they broke apart, he thought he saw a mist in her eyes.

The ride into the city was long and silent as Shane gazed out at the seemingly endless stretch of road that whizzed by as Pam drove. The bus was otherwise empty, and it felt like a sick echo of the times when there was no one in the saloon but the two of them.

He rested his cheek in the palm of his hand, the hairs of his beard tickling the skin. In the last week it had grown into a full beard, which had earned him a stern talking to from Morris. He couldn’t remember what exactly his asshole of a boss had said to him, though. The words had trickled through his ear and out the other one into the air, disappearing like a magic trick. Poof.

As the bus ground to a halt, Shane tried not to feel too happy about the angry reaction he’d earned from Morris when he announced he was leaving for five weeks.

“Hey. Boy.” Pam’s voice rang out as Shane prepared to exit the bus. He halted where he was on the first step down and turned around. She offered him a smirk. “Wherever you’re going, take it easy, alright?” Shane nodded in response and left the bus, nearly tripping as he moved from the last steep step onto the sidewalk.

By the time he had reached Zuzu City, a blizzard was in full effect. Wild storms of snow obscured Shane’s vision as he trudged down the city streets, black duffel bag slung over his shoulder. His knees felt numb, and he wished he’d worn longer pants instead of his usual athletic shorts. Just as he thought he might have to cut off his fingers or toes from growing frostbite, he reached his destination.

As he stepped inside, a blast of warm air hit him. He was grateful that they had good heaters. He brushed a hand over his hair, trying to shake the watery snowflakes out of his hair. They made his head damp and cold. 

Inside, a warmly lit waiting room greeted him along with a row of green, cushioned chairs that lined the side wall. An older woman was positioned behind the check-in desk with her face half obscured by a thin computer monitor. She looked up as Shane approached, wrinkles forming on her skin as she gave him a kind smile.

“Welcome to the Zuzu City Rehabilitation Center. How may I help you?” she said. Her speech, just as kind as her face, reminded Shane of the gentle tone of Rose’s voice. Even though his heart felt sad at that realization, it also made him feel it was some kind of sign that he was, at last, doing the right thing.

“I’m here to check in,” Shane said quietly, suddenly feeling shy and nervous. “My name’s Shane Newfeld. I called here yesterday.”

“Ah! That’s right,” the woman said as she clicked her computer mouse a few times. “I see that here. Let me just notify the intake specialist that you’re here.”

Shane nodded and watched as the receptionist disappeared behind a closed door. A few moments later, another woman emerged, this one dressed in a blazer and nice black pants. She held a clipboard and pen in her hands.

“Hi, Shane,” she said. “You can follow me.”

She led him behind the door and down the hall to a small room with a desk and two chairs in front of it, where she gestured for him to seat. Shane adjusted himself in the seat and couldn’t help jiggling his leg to calm the nerves.

“I’m just going to ask you a few questions to get an idea of how we might best be able to help you, and then I’ll explain a few things about our facility,” she said, clicking her pen. The sound took Shane back to the hours spent in that tiny counselor’s office in Zuzu City, removed from the rest of the outside world, struggling to break down the barriers in his mind. “When did you first start drinking?”

Shane took a deep breath. “Well,” he said. “I first started about four years ago.”

* * *

White walls—that was the first thing Shane noticed when he walked into his new room for the next five weeks. He took stock of the rest of the space: twin-sized bed with pinstriped sheets on it, lamps that created a yellow glow in the room, and a wooden dresser. There was a steel desk nestled in the corner with a small potted plant on it. It looked like a dorm room he’d seen on a tour of Zuzu State back when he had considered going to college.

He walked through the room, his footsteps echoing on the hardwood floor, and sat down on the bed. It creaked, and the movement caused the sheets to rumple. Above the bed hung a painting of a flower; it was a bright yellow sunflower, its petals yawning out from its center. He thanked Yoba it wasn’t a rose—what a cruel twist of fate it would be if it were.

As he stared into the swirls of paint, he realized this was it. The person he had become was no longer the person he wanted to be, and he had taken the first step to fixing it. He just wondered if he had the strength to go through with it.

The sound of his door opening broke him from his reverie, and he glanced up to see a man knock on the doorframe before entering the room. He had a young face obscured by the full, bushy beard that grew on his chin.

“Shane, right?” He waited for Shane to nod before continuing and walking over to the foot of the bed, where the black duffel bag sat. The man picked it up and dumped it onto the bed, starting to unzip it and examine the contents. “Sorry, just gotta check your bag. Make sure you didn’t smuggle anything in.”

“Makes sense,” Shane said as he watched the man rifle through his possessions. What little he had with him, anyway. 

“I’m Rick, by the way,” the man said. “I work as one of the counselors here.”

“Nice to meet you.” Shane fiddled with his thumbs, unsure of what else to say.

“You nervous?”

“Yeah.”

Rick smiled. “Don’t be,” he said. “We’ll take good care of you here, I promise.” He zipped the bag back up and checked his watch. “Alright, everything looks clear. Dinner is in about an hour if you’re feeling hungry. The cafeteria is down the hall and to the right.”

“Okay,” Shane said and swallowed. “Thanks.”

Rick gave him one last look before exiting the room, leaving Shane to contemplate his decision. Everything still felt strange to him, like he was walking through a slow-moving dream. Nothing seemed real. 

Except for one thing.

Shane reached into his bag, unzipping the small side pocket, and pulled out a photo. He cradled it gently in his hands. In it, he was with Rose the day of the Flower Dance, when Marnie had caught them with her camera after they’d come back to the ranch to take Jas home. Rose was smiling and looking right at Marnie, as she’d noticed the photo being taken. Shane, on the other hand, had his head turned sideways to look at her, a look of soft content on his face.

The same look came over his face as he studied the photo, the dimples on her cheeks and the slight pink flush and the way her hair fell over her shoulders in waves. He could feel her gentle spirit even through the colors of the photograph, and he silently thanked Marnie for having taken it. 

Shane stared out of his new room at the flakes of snow coming down and the frost that tipped the edges of the window, and he prayed that when the ice finally thawed, so too would Rose’s heart.


	14. A Bittersweet Holiday

Rose shivered as a draft of chilly air moved through the windows of her house, and she shimmied quickly into her parka, a long black coat with a faux-fur lined hood. From her closet, she pulled out a thin metal rod that felt awkward against the gloves that covered her hands. Today, she was going fishing. The day before, she had visited the mines. The day before that, she’d foraged for what little plants managed to survive the harsh winter of the valley. As long as she kept her mind occupied, she could keep moving forward. She could forget and learn to accept the empty space in her bed at night and the way it left her feeling hollow.

Sometimes though, life had a way of reminding Rose of the things she tried so hard to push into the dark corners of her mind and heart. That morning when she opened the front door, she found Marnie standing on the mat outside with a batch of cookies in her hands and a sympathetic look. 

“Good morning, Rose. I have some news about Shane,” she said. “I know you two got in a big fight, and I don’t expect you to forgive him. My nephew means well, but…” Marnie shifted the container of cookies.

“What is it then, Marnie?” If she hadn’t come over to try to convince Rose to hear Shane out, then what was she doing there? Rose wondered briefly if something had happened to him and she stiffened in fear; even as she’d tried to distance herself from him, both mentally and physically, she still cared. A part of her still loved him deeply too, but she didn’t let herself acknowledge that. “Did something happen?”

“I wanted you to know that he’s, well…he’s gone, dear.” Marnie frowned.

“He’s gone? He’s…he’s dead?” A numb, tingling feeling spread through her limbs, and she began to shake. She gripped the door frame for support and tried to stop from sinking to the ground. Her eyes closed involuntarily as she attempted to regain control of her thoughts, which were consumed with images of Shane lying still and cold. 

Shane face down in the snow, face blue and frozen and bruised.

Shane bobbing in the water of the pond before sinking into the depths of the ripples.

Then, a real memory: Shane on the side of the cliff, thunder booming and rain slashing down to meet his skin. This time, she wasn’t there to save him.

And if it was true, that he was really dead, then the last things she would have said to him weren’t words of love, but rather heartbreak. That was the most unbearable thought of them all.

“Oh, dear. I worded that very poorly,” Marnie said and smacked a hand across her forehead with a small sigh. “What I meant is he’s left the valley. He checked himself into a rehabilitation center in Zuzu City. I’m so sorry I scared you, I can’t believe how insensitive that was.”

Shane was in rehab. He wasn’t dead. 

“Oh.” Rose sighed with relief and moved her hand from the door. “I’m glad it’s not what I thought. And um, I’m really happy that he’s getting some help.”

The tiniest glow of pride nestled itself in her at the thought that Shane was finally doing something to address his problems, that he wanted to get better, to gain control over his demons.

Another strong part of her, though, was angry. Why hadn’t Shane gotten the help he needed when they were together? Why did he wait until he’d already ruined the delicate nature of their relationship, shattered it into a million pieces, and ground it to dust? 

She felt as though she hadn’t done enough to stop his downward spiral. Sometimes, on especially dark nights, she thought that if she’d loved him better he would’ve been able to stick with his recovery. 

She was working on not blaming herself so much for that, but it was a long process.

Marnie smiled softly. “I’m very proud of him,” she said. “I think he’s doing a good thing. It’s about time that boy took care of himself.”

“Yeah,” Rose said quietly. “I think it is.” 

It was the truth. Regardless of what had happened between them, Rose wished him well and wanted nothing more than for him to be happy.

“Well, I’ll leave you be. I’m sure you have a lot of work to do today,” Marnie said and handed Rose the container of cookies. 

She nodded and accepted them. “Thank you for stopping by to tell me, Marnie,” she said. “I appreciate it.”

Rose remained in the doorway for several moments after Marnie left, staring down at the cookies in her hands, and felt like she was going to cry. Thinking about Shane often did that to her. She wished there wasn’t so much love still left for him in her heart.

* * *

The postcard came the weekend before Winter Star, a thin piece of card stock with a laminated finish. Its front had a picture of a festive set of ornaments arranged on a table with loopy red and green script in the bottom corner that said, ‘Season’s Greetings!’ On the back was a cheery note from her mom written in her signature neat handwriting, all the letters perfectly straight and lined up.

When she pulled it out of the mailbox, Rose’s first urge was to rip the postcard in half. Years of pent up anger and feelings of betrayal nearly canceled out the positive interactions they’d had during the dinner. She’d almost done it, fingers pinching the top of the card, but something stopped her. She thought it might have been the scent of the home baked sweets her mother made when she was young wafting through her consciousness. Rose used to love Winter Star back when she had a real family, and her mom was a big part of that love.

She placed the postcard on the kitchen table and glanced sadly over at the tree that sat perched on her windowsill, a tiny plant whose branches sagged under the weight of the ornaments Leah had made for her. 

“You could come spend Winter Star with me,” Leah had said as she handed her the gift. The snow crunched under her feet as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other. “Rachel and I would love to have you.” Since the fall, Leah had been seeing a woman who lived in a neighboring town; the two met at an artists’ convention in the city.

Rose shook her head. “That’s alright,” she had told Leah. “I wouldn’t want to intrude. It’s your first Winter Star together, and that’s…that’s special.”

Rose’s first Winter Star with Shane had been the year before, just days before her mining accident would bring them together. He invited her to spend the day with him, Marnie, and Jas after she mentioned it was her first holiday without any family to enjoy it with; her dad had passed a year prior, and she hadn’t been speaking to her mom at the time. 

Jas had helped Marnie bake cookies while she and Shane watched. Rose could remember clearly how Shane watched her with this tender expression when he thought she wasn’t looking, the flick of his eyes revealing his true feelings towards her. It had made her feel loved and, for the first time in a long while, truly seen and appreciated.

More than that, it had given her a feeling of belonging. She had allowed herself to hope, somewhere deep inside herself, that they might be her family someday. Now, that dream lay buried underneath the cold, hard earth of the valley. She and Shane had made sure of that when they failed at making their relationship work.

Rose walked over to her kitchen counter and pulled out the container of cookies Marnie had given her from a cabinet above the sink. Their fresh-baked scent wafted up from inside the container and she inhaled deeply. They smelled like her mom puttering around the kitchen while her dad took swipes at the raw cookie dough. They smelled like happiness and family. They smelled like a home that was now lost to time. 

What she did have, though, was a broken piece from her past. Maybe it could be put to use building something new.

The phone almost slipped from her shaking hands as she dialed the number for her mom’s home. Even after all these years, she’d somehow found her way back to the town she’d raised Rose in, and it would only be a few hours trip for her to come visit Rose.

“Hi, Mom. It’s me.”

“Rosie?” Her mom’s voice was confused, but pleasantly surprised when she heard Rose speak. “I’m so glad to hear from you. How have you been?”

Rose took a breath, air crackling against the receiver’s microphone. “I’ve been better,” she said. “A lot…a lot has happened lately.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that.” The genuineness of her mom’s words touched Rose’s heart, and she wanted to give her a hug through the phone; it was an urge she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

“It’s okay. I’m managing alright,” Rose said. She twirled the bulky, spiraled cord of her outdated phone around her finger. “But I was thinking maybe we could…catch up. During Winter Star. Maybe, um, spend it together if you’re not doing anything. We have this feast in town every year, and we could go to that.”

“Rosie, you have no idea how happy that would make me,” her mom said.

Rose said nothing, but she hoped her mom could sense her smile through the phone. She wouldn’t have to be alone on Winter Star. She would have a family, even if it was small and cobbled together.

“How about if I come Friday morning?” her mom said. “That way you can spend Winter Star’s Eve however you’d like.”

“That sounds great, Mom.” Rose paused for a moment, pulling the cord so tightly that it made her finger lose color. “Thanks for agreeing to come.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

* * *

A knock came exactly when Rose had expected it—her mom wouldn’t dare be late for something like this—and she opened the door to usher her mom inside from the cold. Her mom’s cheeks were tinged red, and her fingers appeared white and wrinkly, drained of color. Those fingers clutched the sides of a container of holiday-themed baked goods, the very same ones that Rose remembered from her childhood.

Her mom sniffled as she walked inside and placed her coat on the hanger by the door. “It’s freezing out there,” she said. “If it weren’t for the holidays, I’d say winter is just no good all around.”

Rose laughed quietly. “I’ll put on a fire for you, Mom,” she said. The match ignited as she swiped it across the side of the box. Once thrown into the fireplace, the wood erupted into flames with a whoosh. “How was the drive in?”

“Not too bad,” her mom said, smoothing her hands over her pants. “Just as I remember, but with more ice.”

“Oh, right. We always came up in the summer,” Rose said and cleared her throat. They’d made conversation all throughout their dinner, but there was still a certain stiltedness in the way that they treated one another. All those months of silence had placed a barrier between them that seemed insurmountable at times.

Her mom picked up the postcard on the table and fiddled with it. “You kept this,” she said, a slight note of surprise evident in her voice. 

Rose stared at the floor, embarrassed. “Oh, yeah. Of course.” She drew circles with her foot. “Thank you. It was a nice gesture.”

A pleased look crossed over her mom’s face and she set the postcard down with a gentle pat. She began to ask about how the winter had been for the farm, whether she was faring alright with the cold weather. Her mom danced carefully around the subject of Shane, not daring to ask about it, and Rose was grateful. When it was time to head for the feast, they walked side by side in silence, having exhausted all of their conversational topics.

As they approached the town square the sounds of angelic, high-pitched voices singing in unison filled the air. Their harmonies soared and weaved through the night like birds in flight, and it took Rose once again back to her childhood, to when carolers would knock on their door.

“My, that sounds wonderful,” her mom said as the noise grew closer. “I love Winter Star carols, they’re so lovely.”

Rose wrinkled her forehead. “Um, I don’t know where that’s coming from,” she said. “I don’t remember that from last year.”

The source of the choral singing revealed itself to be a group of people assembled in rows on a small wooden stage set up by Pierre’s General Store. They were wearing alternating red and green robes, and in front of them stood Mayor Lewis, who was attempting to conduct. He drew his arms across his body in a sweeping move and the singers quieted.

“That was good,” he was saying, unaware that the microphone next to him was still on. “But I need more _emotion_ behind it. I need this to be moving. I want to see the people of this town pulling out tissues to wipe their eyes. Understand?”

The singers nodded in unison. Upon closer inspection, they all appeared to be under the age of twelve, and that was when it dawned on Rose that the performers were all kids. Mayor Lewis had hired a children’s choir to perform at the feast.

Strong laughter bubbled in Rose’s throat. She glanced around the festival for someone to share her amusement with, but her happiness turned to an emptiness when she realized that the someone she was looking for was Shane. They had always noticed those little moments of insanity together, the shenanigans of Pelican Town a never-ending source of bonding for them.

A jingling noise came from beside her and Rose turned to see Emily next to her, wearing her favorite festive earrings, sleigh bells that hung from long golden chains. “I swear that little man gets crazier ideas every year,” she said with a laugh. 

Rose smiled in response. “Yeah, he sure does,” she said. “Those poor kids.”

“How are you doing, Rose?” Emily said with a wide grin. Rose wondered if she just permanently had a smile on her face and remembered an old joke her dad used to make about faces getting stuck if they made the same expression too often. “Feeling any better these days?”

“Oh, um, I’m doing better. Thank you,” she said quietly. She shifted her gaze over to where her mom stood near them, trying to pretend she couldn’t hear their conversation. “Hey, Emily. This is my mom.”

“Oh.” Emily’s eyes widened. “I’m so sorry, I was being rude. I should’ve introduced myself. Nice to meet you.” She stuck out her hand for Rose’s mom to shake. Rose noticed she had a loose grip, a flimsy handshake perfect for the kind of person who floated through life like Emily.

“It’s nice to meet you as well,” her mom said with a smile. 

As Emily and her mom chatted, Rose took in the sights around her. Her first Feast of the Winter Star had taken her breath away with all the twinkling lights and elaborate ornaments and neatly wrapped presents nestled underneath the giant evergreen tree. It was no less stunning the following year. Happy laughter and idle chatter among townsfolk made for heartwarming background noise and it soothed her.

“Claire?” Willy came up behind Rose’s mom and tapped her on the shoulder. “Is that really you?”

She turned around with a gasp and gave Willy a hug. When they broke apart, she was smiling. “Oh, it’s been so long,” she said. 

Rose’s heart stopped. She hadn’t considered the fact that her mom would remember some of the older people in town. Images of her childhood flashed through Rose’s mind, of visits to her grandfather where her parents would spend time chatting and mingling with people and it caused her chest to tighten. 

“So sorry to hear about Jim,” Willy said, sadness nestling itself in the creases of his face, and Rose’s stomach clenched. Then he nodded towards her with a kind smile. “We love our Rose, though. She’s our farmer.”

“I’m happy to hear you’re taking good care of her,” Rose’s mom said.

A tapping on the microphone—which caused a loud, ear-splitting burst of feedback to ring out—interrupted their conversation, and everyone turned to see Mayor Lewis standing on the stage with a sheepish look on his face. He’d dismissed the members of the children’s choir, who were now off to the side of the stage, pushing and shoving one another.

Lewis coughed and quickly regained his composure. “Greetings, everyone,” he said. “I would like to begin this year’s toast by thanking all of you for attending the feast. And, of course, by acknowledging the hard work of this year’s choral accompaniment, brought to you by the children’s choir of the Zuzu City Public Grade School.” Lewis gestured towards where the children were, and they bowed as the town applauded.

Beside her, Rose’s mom chuckled quietly. “Yoba, this speech is going to take a while, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s going to be a long one. Always is,” Rose said.

“He’s always been such a self-important windbag,” her mom said and clapped a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t say that. He’s your mayor.”

Rose fought a smile, but eventually gave in, shoulders shaking with laughter. “No, it’s true. He is.”

In that moment, another piece of the wall between her and her mother crumbled and fell down.

The feast passed in a blur of small talk and holiday spirit, and even though Rose normally hated the former, it didn’t seem so unbearable with her mom by her side handling the bulk of the chatter. Rose also had to admit that it was nice to spend the holiday with a family member.

On their way back to the farm, the conversation flowed much more freely than it had before they left for the festival. They talked about Rose’s neighbors, and she filled her mom in on what had happened in town in the years she’d been away from it. 

When they reached the farmhouse, they grew quiet, conversation coming to a halt.

“Mom,” Rose said softly, looking down at the ground and biting her lip. “I miss Dad. I miss our family.”

A hand came to rest under her chin, and Rose leaned into the weathered surface of her mom’s palm as the older woman moved her head up to look at her. Her mother’s eyes were soft and kind. “I miss him, too,” she said and put her hand on Rose’s cheek, rubbing her thumb over the skin. Rose closed her eyes, embracing the comfort of a maternal touch after so long. “I’m so very sorry that I destroyed us. I don’t…I wish I had…”

Rose placed her own hand over her mom’s and squeezed. “It’s okay, Mom,” she said. “I think I’m starting to forgive you.”

Her mom bowed her head and reached her thumbs up to brush away stray tears from under her eyes. “That’s all I can ask for,” she said, barely a whisper. “I’m just glad you’re giving me the chance.”

They hugged one last time before her mom vanished into the darkness to return back to her home, back to where they’d once been a family together. 

The steps underneath Rose’s feet creaked as she went up towards her front door, and a sudden loneliness creeped through the air. She was going home alone. Rose sighed, hand poised over the doorknob and turned around to look out at the farm.

A twinkle in the sky caught her gaze, and she tilted her head up to see a brilliant, bright star cutting through the darkness of the night. It seemed to stand on its own, separated from all the other stars that illuminated the night. 

“It’s the Winter Star,” she said aloud to no one, her words breathless. They echoed through the still air and she grinned.

Every year, it was said that the Winter Star would appear only to those who were in the valley—she’d heard this story from Willy the year prior, a night that seemed like it was an eternity away from her. He’d told her of its other meaning too, that the Winter Star would reveal itself when it was needed to show people the way home. 

In a way, it had led her mom home to her.

In the deepest parts of her heart, the ones she tried to keep tucked away, she hoped that it would someday lead Shane home to her too. Until then, she would wait.


	15. A Troublesome Letter

Shane blinked open his eyes as the soft light of the morning streamed in through the slits in his blinds. He held a hand up to the light and examined it. No shaking today—that was a good sign.

It had taken a week for his body to stop trembling when he didn’t immediately reach for a bottle upon waking up. His first few nights in rehab were the worst, with the irritability and sweating and those goddamn shakes that kept him up at night. Gradually, though, it had gotten easier to live without self-medicating with alcohol. Sometimes he still got that itch to smother his feelings with liquor and beer, but he did his best to cope by keeping himself busy.

That morning his throat felt dry and scratchy, begging to be soothed by a nice can of beer. 

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up as soon as he recognized that urge in himself, reaching for a small bag laying on the floor. Athletic clothes spilled out of its sides, and Shane quickly shoved them inside, zipped up the bag, and headed out of his room with it slung over his shoulder.

It was time for his morning workout. As long as he kept his mind and body busy, he didn’t have time to think about the cravings.

Shane could feel his arms underneath him wobble and start to fold as he pulled himself up for another push-up. Forty-eight. Sweat coated the length of his back, staining his t-shirt, and ran down his forehead into his eyes. It stung. Forty-nine. His muscles burned with an ache he hadn’t felt for a long time, not since he’d played gridball in high school. Fifty. He collapsed onto the ground, panting.

Mercifully, there was no one else in the exercise room to watch him struggle save for Mr. Henderson, who stayed down the hall from his room. Shane looked up at him.

“Good work, son,” he barked from where he was power walking on a treadmill. The whirring of the machine’s tracks had been the only noise in the room up until that point and Shane started a little at the sound of his voice. Mr. Henderson always spoke every sentence like he was about to start a fight, but Shane knew he meant well. 

On Mr. Henderson’s face grew a full mustache and beard that made him look like he was part of a biker gang and he always wore a permanent scowl. Naturally, he scared the shit out of Shane the first time they interacted, but he soon discovered that Mr. Henderson was actually a pretty nice guy. He had a fifteen-year-old daughter, and the two of them often shared stories of fatherhood.

Fatherhood—when had Shane started thinking of himself as truly being Jas’s father?

“Thanks,” Shane said as he slowly stood up, bracing his hands on his knees for balance. They had turned into jelly somewhere during his sets. “Felt like shit, though.”

The older man nodded. “It gets easier,” he said in his gritty, city-influenced accent. “You just gotta keep goin’ at it, you know? Same deal as this whole rehab business.” 

“Right,” Shane said. He swiped his forearm over his face to try and mop up some of the sweat that had accumulated, but it was useless. Bending down slowly, the soreness in his muscles still prominent, he picked up his bag and headed for the showers. 

While he walked, the sweat prickled as it started to dry on his skin, and he was oddly comforted by it. When he exercised, he felt like he was pushing out all the shit in his brain that told him he was a worthless piece of garbage. It also had the added bonus of making him stronger. He could see more definition coming into his muscles, the likes of which he hadn’t seen since high school.

Not that he had anyone to look good for these days. Besides, Rose never cared about those kinds of things anyway. He thought about her, and the sadness returned to perch in his heart.

He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, then along his face. He’d been keeping it clean-shaven since checking into rehab. It helped remind himself that he was worth spending energy on. At least, that’s what the counselors at the center kept telling him in their group seminars.

The water of the shower burned so hot on his skin that it turned red. It felt good. Shane exhaled and rubbed the bar of soap between his hands. He liked to think of the shower as metaphorically cleaning him of his sins or some cheesy bullshit like that. The center was all about thinking in analogies to make complex emotional problems seem easier to tackle.

Although he’d learned many things like that during his time in rehab, one truth stood above all the others: he had to keep moving forward. He had to get clean.

He wanted to come home a better man.

* * *

_Dear Rose,_

_I’m sorry I’m such a dumb idiot. I love you._

No, that wouldn’t work. She would hate it. Shane crumpled up the ball of paper on his desk and tried again. For almost two weeks, he’d been attempting to write Rose a letter that would explain all of his feelings and describe all the thoughts in his head that made him act the way he did. He wanted to write about how he was working through his pain little by little in the hopes that he could find some kind of solace.

The only problem was that when he put pen to paper, it turned to ash.

* * *

Most of Shane’s time in rehab seemed to exist in a strange sort of limbo where the hands of the clock moved ever so slowly but the days passed by in a blur. He found himself in the middle of his third week before he’d barely had time to process his surroundings.

His room, although still bare aside from that flower painting, started to feel a bit more like home each day he spent in the center, yet it still couldn’t erase his feelings of homesickness. He missed the fresh valley air, and now that spring had arrived, he longed to see the blossoming flowers and green trees. When he looked out the windows now, all he could see was pavement and the slightly smoggy air of the city. It made him realize that even though he hadn’t come to the valley by choice, he’d carved a special place for Pelican Town in his heart somewhere in the last four and a half years.

As he walked down the hallway and entered the cafeteria, walls colored a lifeless beige trying too hard to come across as warm, he felt that familiar ache for home. The food, although prepared well, was nothing compared to Marnie’s cooking.

“Why the long face?” 

Shane blinked, coming out of his daze, and glanced over at the table next to him to see Meredith, his neighbor across the hall. She was looking up at him from where she was bent over her tray, forkful of food halfway to her mouth. Her tight, spiraled hair fell over her face as she leaned forward.

He shrugged. “Missing home,” he said.

She nodded and placed her fork back on the tray as she hummed in sympathy. “I know that feeling,” she said. “I miss Johnny.” Johnny was Meredith’s fiancé, Shane had found out during his second day. He’d gone off to fight in the war against the Gotoro Empire, and without his support of her sobriety, Meredith had turned back to drugs and alcohol to cope.

“That must be tough,” he said and slid onto the bench across from her. His tray hit the table with a smack. 

“You miss anyone?” she said. “Anybody special at home?”

Shane swallowed, suddenly feeling like his throat was about to close in. “Yeah, my goddaughter. I take care of her, and I miss her every day,” he said as he stared down at his tray. He spun the spaghetti on it around his fork slowly. “Miss my aunt too, and um…” He stopped, face flushing red and heart sinking like a stone.

“A girl?” Meredith said with a knowing glint in her eyes. “Or a boy, I don’t want to assume.”

He shook his head. “A girl,” he said and bit his lip before releasing it with a sigh. It wasn’t like him to confess his innermost feelings to a near stranger, but he felt compelled to anyway. He knew Meredith wouldn’t pass judgement. “Her name is Rose. We were…happy. But I messed the whole thing up by drinking. Kept it from her for months because I was so ashamed.”

Meredith let out a bitter laugh. “Yoba, do I know that feeling,” she said. 

“I just wish I could make it up to her. Somehow. I don’t know,” he said, the last part of his sentence turning into a mumble as the red in his cheeks deepened. “I just love her so much.”

At the slight crack in Shane’s voice, Meredith’s eyebrows knitted together in sympathy. “Maybe on the outside,” she said, “things will be different. You’ll come back stronger than before.”

“I hope you’re right,” Shane said. “I really do.”

It was the truth—he’d never wished for anything as much as he wished for Rose’s forgiveness.

* * *

_Dear Rose,_

He never made it past the opening on that one.

* * *

Three times a week, Shane met with his old counselor from the city. The staff at the rehabilitation center had gotten in touch with her a couple days after his arrival, and she now worked with him in conjunction with a doctor at the facility.

At first, Shane had felt awkward around her, unsure how to address their last interaction together in which he’d yelled and stormed out of her office. He settled for an apology and hoped it would suffice.

“You aren’t the first person to struggle with recovery and decide to quit during the process,” she’d said. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s all water under the bridge, okay?”

Shane had nodded and even though he still felt guilty, he tried to move on.

“I just…I’m a failure, you know?” he said. This was during the middle of his fourth week in rehab, and he’d grown more comfortable opening up in his treatment. It made him feel lighter to remove some of the weight that dragged him down everyday like lead in his shoes. 

The counselor tapped her pen against her chin and pursed her lips. “How so?”

“I don’t know.” Shane twisted his hands together, trying to think of words to say. He needed to take pauses and collect his thoughts a lot during their sessions. “It’s like, my parents were always successful, going on all these business trips, and their only son ended up in a backwater town with a dead end job and no future. I let them down.”

“You’ve mentioned in earlier sessions that they weren’t around very often,” the counselor said as she glanced down at her notes, then back up at him. “Is it possible that maybe they let you down? That they prioritized their work over raising their son?”

“They still do,” Shane mumbled. He moved his eyes up to the ceiling, staring at the white, speckled tiles mixed with squares of bright fluorescent lights.

“Still do what?”

“Prioritize work over me,” Shane conceded, scratching his chin. He’d graduated high school and moved away, permanently severing what little tie held together his relationship with his parents. They didn’t speak much anymore, save for a phone call every year around the holidays, when he supposed their guilt caught up to them. “Growing up, I always thought I had to live up to their achievements or whatever.”

“But Shane,” the counselor said slowly, “is that what you would want?” 

Shane chewed on his lip and thought. No one had ever asked him that question. His parents had provided for him, put a roof over his head, and sent him to a good school—he wasn’t supposed to ask for more, to demand what wasn’t given to him. He never considered that all those lonely afternoons and weekends by himself could have left a certain emptiness in his heart.

“Let me ask you this,” the counselor said, gesturing towards him. “If you were to describe an ideal life for yourself, what would that look like?”

“I…I live on Rose’s farm,” he said, the words coming out before he even processed the question fully and had time to second guess himself. “And I help, I take of the animals, like the chickens and the cows and the sheep, and she grows all the crops and those beautiful flowers she has.” 

As Shane talked quietly, he could picture the life he was describing in his head in sharp clarity. In his mind’s eye, it was a gentle spring day on the farm and he fed the chickens while watching Rose tend crops from afar. “Jas would come live with us too, and I’d be a good dad to her, and Rose could be kind of like her mom. And Rose and I, we would be happy together.”

The counselor smiled at him and gave a nod of positive affirmation. “Don’t you think you could have all of those things? They seem well within your reach.”

The soft smile that had grown on Shane’s face faded. He picked at a speck of dirt on his jeans. “I don’t know. I always screw everything up, so it’s kind of a pipe dream at this point. I’m not very good at being a father or…or a boyfriend.”

“How about we think about this differently then,” the counselor said. “Why don’t you tell me about a time you felt like you were a good father to Jas?”

“About two years ago I guess now, Jas told me she wanted to go find a fairy rose. Those are her favorite type of flower. So I told her okay, and we spent the entire day searching for this damn fairy rose. Scoured the whole town,” Shane said, filling with warmth as he recalled the memory. “We never found one, but…Jas told me that it was the best day she’d had since the accident.”

“Good,” the counselor said. “Now how about a time when you and Rose were happy together? When you felt like a caring and supportive partner?”

“I…” Shane stopped. In his mind, a strong barrier always appeared when he tried to think of himself as a good partner. Somehow, though, a memory managed to float to the surface, unbound by any mental chains he placed on himself.

“There was this moment at the Flower Dance, which is, um, kind of this weird tradition that our town has. Anyway, Rose looked really upset so I asked her if she was okay, and she said was overwhelmed and that she wanted to leave. So I took her away from everyone and we ended up in this…forest, a really peaceful forest, and we danced together and I felt…”

“Happy.” The counselor’s lips turned up slightly.

“Yeah. Really happy. And…alive.” Shane breathed out, slumping back into his chair. He closed his eyes, wishing he was back in that moment with Rose where only the two of them seemed to exist, petals floating around them in that warm breeze.

“So you’ve already experienced some of the things that you want most in life. The problem is that your depression is clouding your memories and the way that you feel about yourself. What it’s telling you,” the counselor said, “are lies.” 

Shane’s eyes popped open and he blinked a few times. 

“Lies,” he echoed. 

“It’s a false narrative that you’ve constructed about yourself, Shane.”

“False narrative?”

The counselor gave him an amused smile. “You don’t have to keep repeating everything I say.”

“Sorry,” Shane said with a laugh. He tugged at the hair just above his forehead, bunching it into his fist. “It’s just…no one’s ever…I don’t know.”

A feeling of relief and content mixed with melancholy washed over Shane in that moment, and he was almost overwhelmed by its force. He thought about all the ways in which he was his own worst enemy over the last year—over the last four years, to be more precise—and how his self-image was so distorted he couldn’t even tell what the truth was anymore. His own memories had been tainted by the way he felt about himself, and he could see them all in sharp clarity now.

He thought about the way that Rose would smile at him sometimes, like he was the only thing worth loving in this world.

He thought about the way Jas looked up at him when they played make believe together, how she clapped with excitement when he got into character and went along with her whims.

He thought about the way his aunt Marnie had beamed at him with pride when he announced he wanted to get clean after his hospitalization.

Most amazing of all, Shane found that the distance between the person he was and the person he wanted to be wasn’t as insurmountable as he’d once thought. Perhaps there was still hope for him after all.

The counselor glanced at the clock above his head. “We’re out of time today,” she said. “I’ll see you on Thursday, okay?”

“Thank you, Dr. Meyers,” he said as he stood up, noticing the name tag around her neck for what seemed like the first time. He wondered how long he’d been thinking of her as just “his counselor” and not a person with feelings, and he knew he’d been self-centered; not just with her, but with everybody in his life, and he wanted to fix it. “I…That really helped me today.”

She grinned at him. “You’ve been making a lot of progress, Shane,” she said. “Keep up the good work.”

He nodded and left the office, heading down the hallway towards his room with a clear head. It had been a long time since the thoughts in his head had been still and at peace like that.

* * *

_Dear Rose,_

_I figured out today why I’m so screwed up. Everything I’ve ever told myself is a big fat lie, and even though that’s what you’ve been telling me all along, I only believe it now that some psychobabble has been thrown in my face. Isn’t that great?_

That one went straight in the garbage can as Shane groaned in frustration. Still, his heart felt just a bit lighter after that counseling session. Maybe someday he could get this letter right. He wasn’t ready to give up yet.

* * *

Jas shot into the building’s lobby like a rocket, reaching her arms out to give Shane a tight hug, just as she did every Saturday when she and Marnie came to visit for the afternoon. Shane wrapped his arms around Jas’s back and scooped her up off the ground. 

“Missed you, kid,” he said as he set her back down. 

She gave him a wide grin, making a gap where a tooth was missing more noticeable. Jas pointed at the bright, pink gums. “I got a visit from the tooth fairy last night,” she said with a note of pride as she reached into the pocket of her shorts and pulled out 1g. 

Shane laughed. “I can see that.”

Marnie was next to give him a hug. When she pulled away, she quietly asked him how he was doing. She asked him this every week, but Shane didn’t mind. He figured he owed her honesty after all the lying he’d done before.

“I’m doing better,” he said. 

She accepted this answer, knowing it was going to take a long time for him to be able to give her anything more, but also that he was telling the truth this time. Marnie offered him a small nod. “We miss you,” she said, “but I’m so happy you’re doing well with all of this.”

“What do you guys want to do today?” Shane asked, glancing between the two of them. 

Jas looked up at Marnie, then over to Shane with shining eyes. “Let’s go outside,” she said. “It’s so pretty today.”

As they made their way into the gardens that lay just past the courtyard in the back of the building, Shane had to admit that Jas was right; it was a gorgeous spring day, the snow finally having melted and left the trees dripping with green leaves and barely bloomed flower buds. A few types of flowers had already started to sprout from the ground, filling the garden with beautiful colors.

Jas reached out towards a vibrant, blue flower and plucked it. She held it in her hands, twirling the stem as she stuck her nose in the center and inhaled. “Uncle Shane, Aunt Marnie, what kind of flower is this?”

Marnie and Shane exchanged glances, and Shane shrugged. He had no idea and he knew Marnie didn’t either; she was a rancher, not a botanist. “We’re not sure, sweetie,” Marnie said.

Jas pouted before fixing Shane with a hard stare. “Miss Rose would know, I bet,” she said.

Shane’s mouth gaped open, and he stammered for a few moments. “Jas, that’s um, see the thing is, uh…”

The girl’s face softened at the heartbroken look on his face. “That’s okay, Uncle Shane,” she said and handed him the flower. He accepted it and ran his fingers along the petals. “I still think you’ll get married some day.”

“You think so?” he said with a small smile.

“I know so,” Jas said, hands on her hips. “You’re soulmates, duh.”

Marnie glanced at Shane with a kind expression on her face that also seemed like it was mixed with a little bit of hope too.

The afternoon passed by all too quickly, as visits with Marnie and Jas often did. Shane found his homesickness sated for those few precious hours that he got to spend with his Pelican Town family and hated when they had to leave. Jas did too, judging by the way that she clung onto Shane as she said goodbye.

“I’ll be home before you know it,” he said, smoothing a hand over her hair.

When he returned to his room after Marnie and Jas left, he was unable to find sleep. He lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling as thoughts swirled through his head. The last four and a half years played in his mind like a reel imprinted in his brain, with all of its loss and grief mixed with new love and tender moments.

Eventually he got up and walked over to the small desk tucked in the corner of his room. He flicked on the lamp, casting a yellow glow over the desk, and pulled a piece of paper and a pen out of the drawer. As he sat down, he glanced out the window to see the sun just beginning to peak out.

It was there, at the dawn of his final week in rehab, that the gears in Shane’s head finally turned in all the right places. As he placed his pen to the paper in front of him, he could feel the words flowing from his heartstrings, and he hoped that they might reach Rose in the same way. 

When he finished writing, he licked the envelope, sealed it, and placed it for delivery in the center’s mail room—his heart was now placed in the contents of that little letter on its way home to Rose.

_Dear Rose_


	16. A Brief Interlude

Dear Rose,

I hope this letter gets to you okay and that your farm is good and everything. Knowing you, I’m sure it all looks great. I’m writing to you because they tell us in here that we should try to make amends with loved ones that we’ve hurt with our addiction, and you deserve it more than anyone in my life. I don’t expect you to forgive me or anything since I fucked up pretty badly, but I just want you to know how I feel and that I’m truly sorry for what I’ve done. More than that, I need you to understand why I am the way that I am. Why I did what I did.

For as long as I can remember I’ve hated myself. I don’t know when it started or how, just that I’ve been convinced that I’ll never amount to anything for a really long time. I think I blame my parents. It just always felt like they were never there, and they were off being successful and living a life that didn’t involve me, their useless son. That’s probably when it started, or at least that’s what my counselor here thinks.

Then Luke died and it all just…fell apart. Something in me broke and I don’t how or why or if it can be fixed. I want to try and fix it, and I work every day here to make myself better. To like myself a little more or at the very least accept myself and who I am.

When I first moved to Pelican Town after the accident, I was miserable. Convinced that nothing could pull me out of my own damn depression, that no matter what I did I was just going to fail. I blamed myself for what happened to Luke, and I wished that I was the one in that car. Sometimes I still think that, especially if it’s late at night and I can’t sleep. But then I think that I never would have met you if that had happened, and I don’t think that would have been worth it because you’re the most beautiful thing that I know.

I know it’s really stupid and cliche to say that someone changed your life, but you did, Rose. You’re gentle and you’re kind and you’re everything that I’m not, and I wish I could have been honest with you. I miss you every day that I’m in here, and I blame myself for what happened between us. I know you know that it’s my fault too. The truth is that I got scared of your reaction if I told you I went back to drinking or quit therapy. Because I knew I’d lose you, but then I lost you because I wasn’t honest. 

It was kind of like a snowball effect, you know? Like I was just rolling down this damn hill and I couldn’t stop myself no matter how hard I tried. I started drinking two days before the day Luke died, when I came over to your house that time. I didn’t tell you or anyone that it happened. And then it kept happening because I couldn’t stop feeling like I was useless and worthless and that there was no way you could possibly love me. I wanted my thoughts to be true so I made them true, if that makes any sense (probably not, I’m a terrible writer, I’m sorry.) Then I quit therapy because I got frustrated with myself and the whole thing was just really fucked up, and I regret every part of it.

What I’m trying to say is that you mean more to me than you’ll ever know, probably. And that I’m really sorry for what I’ve done and that I want to try and be a better person. Not just say that I’m going to get better, but actually do it. I want to be good enough for you. But even if I end up never getting to that point, at least I tried.

If you want to see me at all or something, just know that my door here is always open. I put the address and visiting hours in the envelope if you need them. 

I’m sorry,

Shane

_There’s a postscript that’s scratched out several times, but the words can still be made out:_

I love you. You are home to me.


	17. A Conflicted Heart

The feeling of being an intruder swept over Rose as she stepped foot into Marnie’s ranch for the first time since her fight with Shane. She’d avoided going there as long as she could, but the winter had depleted her stores of animal feed and she needed to buy more; the weather forecast called for rain the next day. The small bell that hung above the door during store hours chimed to alert Marnie that a customer was there, and she looked up in surprise as Rose walked in. 

“Rose,” she said with a warm smile. “It’s so nice to see you. You haven’t been in the store for quite a while.”

Rose nodded, unsure of what to say next. “Yeah,” she said and swallowed, words feeling like lumps in her throat. “I just needed to come pick up some more feed. Ran out over the winter.”

“Of course,” Marnie said. “I’ll have that delivered to your silo right away.” She started to ring Rose up for her purchase, then stopped after a few seconds with a look of hesitation on her face. “And Rose, I…”

“It’s okay,” Rose said. She was almost certain that Marnie was going to say something about Shane, and that was a conversation she wasn’t really interested in having at that particular moment. The process of piecing her heart back together had been a long one, and she was finally starting to feel that she was healing a little bit. All she needed to do was get the feed for her silo and leave before the memories became too strong for her to bear. “You don’t need to apologize for him or…or talk about it or anything.”

Marnie looked over to the side and shook her head. “It’s not that. I just…” she started, but then paused. “Well, never mind. I don’t want to burden you.”

“What is it?” As Rose asked the question, her eyes wandered over the main room of the ranch: the store counter, the kitchen, the wallpaper that had started peeling off in a few tiny patches at the corners. As she looked around, those memories emerged from the walls and wooden floors like ghosts. All the times she’d spent in that house with Shane started to come back to her.

She snapped her gaze back to Marnie. There was no room for those ghosts in her mind. She’d come too far to stumble back like that.

“It’s Jas,” Marnie said with a sad smile on her face. “She’s quite…attached to you. She misses you.”

“Oh.” A thin layer of tears started to form in Rose’s eyes, and she blinked to get rid of them. Jas missed her. She’d never even considered that possibility when she ended things with Shane, that Jas thought of her as a friend—or even, she thought with a heavy heart, as a parental figure. “Um, do you want me to play with her for a little while? I could do that.”

“You’re far too kind to us,” Marnie said with a sigh and another shake of her head as she gestured towards the front door. “I think she’s outside skipping rope by the pond.”

Rose nodded, and after she finished her transaction with Marnie, headed outside to go find Jas. After all the kindness that the young girl and Marnie had shown her, it was the least she could do—even if it meant facing her feelings about Shane.

It was one of the valley’s signature breezy spring days, a mild temperature with swirls of flower petals that floated around in the wind. The sun peeked out from behind scatterings of clouds and created a warmth that enveloped the entire town. Rose found it a nice change of pace from the bitterness of the winter.

As Marnie suspected, Jas was out by the water, but instead of skipping rope she was sitting on the dock. Her short legs hovered over the surface of the pond, forming shadows. She stared into her own reflection, jump rope clutched in her tiny hands, with a contemplative look on her face. It was unusual for the girl, who was normally bursting with energy. 

Rose stepped carefully over the wooden boards of the dock, not wanting to startle Jas. When she reached the end, she placed a hand gently on Jas’s shoulder as she sat down next to her. “Hi, Jas,” she said.

As she looked up to see who her visitor was, Jas’s face bloomed into a smile. “Miss Rose!” she said and wrapped her arms around Rose. Rose hugged her back, tentatively at first, and then eased into it. She fought the urge to cry for the second time that morning at the thought that Jas had missed her that much. 

When Jas finally pulled away, Rose tried to think of things to talk about with the girl. It had always been so easy when she was around Shane, but without him there was an integral part of their dynamic missing.

“What have you been up to today?” she asked and pointed to the jump rope in Jas’s hands. “Your aunt said you were skipping rope earlier. That sounds like fun.”

Jas just nodded, that contemplative look back on her face; it was starting to unnerve Rose. She looked back down at the water, paused for a few moments, and then kicked her bare foot across the pond. The ripples moved slowly outwards from her foot.

“Miss Rose,” Jas finally said, her voice soft and small. It reminded Rose of when she was young and afraid to speak loudly for fear of making too much noise, and her heart felt sad. “I know Uncle Shane hurt you, but I think he’s really sorry. That’s what Aunt Marnie told me.”

While they spoke, Rose had been idly playing with her hands, but she froze at Jas’s words. “She…she did?” 

“Mmhmm,” Jas said with an air of simplicity, as if the tangled mess of her and Shane’s relationship could ever be solved by secondhand word that he might be sorry for what he’d done. Rose wished it were that simple in a way that she’d never wished for anything before. 

“Well I guess that’s…that’s good,” Rose said. She wrung her hands together, starting to fidget again. “So you really think he’s getting better, huh?”

Jas nodded. “You should see him, Miss Rose,” she said. “The circles under his eyes are all gone now, and he said he takes medicine to not feel so sad anymore and help him get better. And he talks to a lady a lot about his feelings.”

Rose blinked a few times, lost for words once again. There had been many times when she’d thought about how Shane was doing in rehab and wondered if he was doing well. Now, Jas had presented her with tangible proof that he had been making progress and was beginning to sort through that tangled web of his mind. He was taking antidepressants. He was going to therapy again. He wasn’t drinking anymore. The thought of him truly getting better simultaneously made her heart break and swell, the way that most things related to Shane did.

It made her hope deep down, for first time since their fight, that maybe he could truly change his life and habits for the better—and if he did that, then perhaps he could give his love the way they both deserved.

“Miss Rose.” Rose snapped her head up to look at Jas, whose eyes were wide and a little bit nervous. “Do you think you could ever forgive Uncle Shane?”

Rose stared down into the water, watching her blurred reflection in the pond’s surface. She took in a shaky breath before speaking. “I…I don’t know,” she said. “It would take some time. And he would have to be really, really sorry.”

To Rose’s surprise, Jas reached over and patted her hand gently. “That’s okay, Miss Rose,” she said. “If someone hurt me real bad like that, I wouldn’t want to be their girlfriend anymore. At least not for a loooong time.”

Rose offered the girl a close-lipped smile. “I’m glad you understand.”

Jas smiled, then stretched out her pinky towards Rose. “You just have to pinky promise that you’ll play with me more often,” she said. 

Rose hooked her finger with Jas’s. “Of course,” she said. Then she stood up, smoothed down her jeans, and offered a hand to Jas. “Do you want to come look at the flowers on my farm today? I have some new ones that I just planted a few weeks ago.”

A small hand slid into hers and Jas beamed at her. Together, the two of them made their way up the path towards the farm.

* * *

“Ah, shit.” Rose sighed as yet another one of her carefully painted eggs slipped out of her hands and onto the cobblestones of the town square. It smashed into little bits with the yolk drooling out. She let out a small laugh. “I really should just stop trying to do anything artistic.”

From where she sat beside Rose, Leah shook her head vehemently. “Nonsense,” she said. “I’ve always told you it’s about the act of creation, not the end product.”

Rose pointed down at the ground towards the eggshells. “At this rate there’s never going to _be_ an end product,” she said. “Why did we not hard boil these first again?”

Leah shrugged. “Thought it’d be more of a challenge,” she said. “Plus, I like to think it represents the fragility of everything in life.” She turned her attention back to the egg in her hand, which was adorned with swirls of blue and purple paint mixed into intricate patterns. 

For a brief moment, Rose felt envy for the way that Leah could take her thoughts and turn them into something tangible, something real—the closest Rose had ever gotten was turning the seeds on her farm into crops.

She sighed again and glanced up from the table they were at, where they were partaking in Leah’s little artistic experiment. Around them, townspeople milled about the main square, chatting and laughing with one another. Jas, Vincent, and Abigail—she always participated in the egg hunt for some inexplicable reason—were preparing for the competition. 

What sounded like eggs hitting the side of a building came from over towards Pierre’s General Store. Rose and Leah, along with a majority of the villagers, whipped their heads around to see Mayor Lewis yelling at a mischievous-looking Sam.

“So help me Sam,” Mayor Lewis shouted, his face turning a rather unflattering shade of red. “If you don’t stop throwing those eggs right this instant, then by my right as Mayor I will have you kicked out of this town!”

“Gonna have to catch me first, Mr. Mayor,” Sam said with what could only be described as a shit-eating grin on his face.

Rose chuckled as Sam sprinted away from the store, his best friend Sebastian not far behind him. Mayor Lewis chased him for a few paces, then gave up, bending over his knees to catch his breath. Once again, Rose felt that little pang that Shane wasn’t there to share that moment of insanity with her.

“Hey, Rose.” Emily hovered above their table, appearing out of nowhere as she often did. “How are ya? How’s the farm doing?” She spoke in a singsong voice.

“It’s alright,” Rose said. “Lot better now that winter’s over.”

“I bet,” Emily said. She glanced around to make sure that no one else was in earshot before leaning in to speak in a low whisper. “Hey, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but…a certain someone is coming back to town soon. Or so I heard.”

Rose stared in surprise for a moment, then looked down at the ground. “Oh,” she said. “Um.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Emily said and placed a hand on Rose’s shoulder. “I just wanted you to know so you’re not caught off guard.”

“Right,” Rose said. “Thanks, Emily. That’s nice of you.”

“Okay, well, I’ll see you around then.” Emily flashed her that signature smile before walking away to rejoin the rest of the town.

Rose quickly grabbed one of the unpainted eggs from the carton next to her. She wanted to occupy herself before Leah started asking questions about the exchange that she and Emily just had.

As she painted, she wondered why she’d been so taken aback by what Emily said. At this point, she’d been apart from Shane for what seemed like so long that the thought of him coming home was almost incomprehensible. It filled her with a dizzying mix of emotions, from heartbreak to bittersweetness to a cautious sort of hope. Since her talk with Jas, the seed of reconciliation had planted itself in her, and she couldn’t shake it no matter how hard she tried.

When she returned to her farm later in the day, Rose still couldn’t stop her mind from buzzing. 

Shane was returning to the valley, the place where they’d met and changed each other irreversibly. 

Shane was coming home.

* * *

The little diner on the corner of seventh and eighth bustled with lunchtime activity, the chatter among customers and the clinking of dishes and silverware floating above the red-cushioned booths. Rose sat across from her mom, playing with the wrapper that had originally covered her straw. Ever since she was a little girl, she’d been folding those wrappers and fiddling with them as she waited for her food. It gave her something to do with her hands.

Since their time together during Winter Star, Rose had slowly started letting her mom back into her life in small doses. Today, they were getting lunch.

“I’m so happy you were free today,” her mom said. She glanced around the diner as she spoke. “I’m also happy to see this little place still open. Thought it would’ve gone out of business and all, given how crazy prices are in the city now.”

Rose shrugged and took a sip of her water. “People like this place a lot, I guess,” she said. “It’s got a lot of charm.”

“Very true,” her mom said with a laugh. Sometimes she would do that, laugh even when the other person hadn’t said something particularly funny. Rose always thought she did it to placate people or endear them to her. “So, how have you been?”

Another shrug. “I’m alright,” Rose said. She paused, glancing down at the table before looking up at her mom from under her eyelashes. “Can I ask you a question, Mom?”

“Of course.”

“Why did you forgive Dad all those times? You know, before…before everything happened.”

Her mom frowned, clearly taken off guard by Rose’s question. “Well, um, that’s a very complicated question, honey,” she said. Then she sighed, and her face softened. “I loved your father, obviously, and I was willing to let things slide that I shouldn’t have. But I don’t know that I’d call that real forgiveness. Just hollow words, maybe, that didn’t really mean anything.”

“So you never forgave him for all the times he gambled or drank or smoked?” Rose said, eyebrows furrowing. Her heart sank. When she’d asked her mom the question, that wasn’t the answer she’d been hoping for; she wanted an answer that would validate her feelings about Shane as of late. Those nagging feelings that there might be a small sliver of a chance for them once he returned home from rehab.

Her mom shook her head. “No, I…well, before he got really sick, he had started to make a real effort to change himself. That was the only time I’d say I really forgave him. That I decided in my heart that I wanted to grant that feeling to him. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Rose said with a nod, “it makes perfect sense.”

Her ride back to the valley was quiet and peaceful, as it always was. Rose spent her time staring out the window next to her, chin propped up in her hand. The sprawling fields and sunny skies made for beautiful sightseeing as the bus hurtled down the highway towards Pelican Town. 

She thought about the conversation she’d had with her mom. Forgiveness. A simple word that held so much weight on its shoulders.

When Rose finally returned to her farm, the little red flag next to her mailbox was raised, indicating that a piece of mail had been delivered for her. As Rose reached for the mailbox, a blue butterfly perched on top fluttered away into the sky. She watched it fly into the spring breeze before opening the mailbox and retrieving the letter inside. It was in a crinkled white envelope that had her address written on it in messy, jumbled lettering and with a start, she realized that the mail had come from the Zuzu City Rehabilitation Center. 

Shane.

Rose stared blankly at the front of the letter, heart thudding in time to the racing thoughts in her head. She crooked a finger under the flap of the envelope and felt it rise as she moved her finger along the edge. Then she unfolded the letter, hands shaking, and began to read.

* * *

According to Shane’s letter, visiting hours were from seven in the morning until eight at night at the Zuzu City Rehabilitation Center, and despite the logical side of her brain protesting loudly, Rose felt like she needed to see him. She wanted to see how he was, to talk to him, to get answers to the questions that nipped at her heart.

_I’m really sorry for what I’ve done and that I want to try and be a better person. Not just say that I’m going to get better, but actually do it. I want to be good enough for you._

She could tell, even from the letter alone, that he was trying this time. That he knew what he’d done wrong. That he wanted to face down his demons at long last. Jas hadn’t been lying to her after all.

As soon as her crops were taken care of, watered and harvested to perfection, she threw on a yellow sundress and weaved a ribbon loosely into her hair. The dress reminded her of an afternoon spent in Zuzu City when she took Shane to her favorite park, this peaceful oasis in the sprawling metropolis. She normally wasn’t so concerned with looking nice, but there was something about the situation that compelled her to put effort into her appearance. 

The sun beamed high in the sky, and even though it was a short walk, Rose was sweating by the time she reached the bus station. She thought it might have been partly nerves, though. What awaited her at the station was the same rusty, rundown bus that always took her to the city, but this time it was sagging on one side and leaning heavily towards the back. Outside the entrance to the vehicle stood Pam, who cupped her hand and lit up a cigarette. Pam didn’t even look up as Rose approached, instead taking a long drag from her cigarette. 

“Um, can I buy a ticket to the city, please?” Rose said, wringing her hands.

“No,” Pam said as she exhaled a large cloud of smoke. Rose tried not to cough—it’d been a long time since she’d had to live with the smell of tobacco.

“Is there a reason why? I really need to get to the city today,” Rose said. She attempted to keep her voice from sounding as though she were pleading, but it was difficult.

Pam shrugged. Even if she’d noticed Rose’s distress, she seemed unconcerned. The cigarette dangled from the side of her lips. “Sorry, kid,” she said. “Flat tire.”

Rose wanted to scream, to ask if Pam was just going to sit around and do nothing instead of fixing it or getting help, but she just bit her lip instead. Even though she’d felt more confident speaking her mind lately, the idea of standing up to the grouchy woman in front her made her feel lightheaded.

As she walked back towards the farm, an idea formed in her mind. Zuzu City wasn’t that many miles away. If the bus wasn’t going to be fixed, she’d have to find another way to get there.

Her heart was demanding that she do so, thumping loudly in her chest like a drumbeat leading her towards the city. Towards Shane.

_I couldn’t stop feeling like I was useless and worthless and that there was no way you could possibly love me._

She had no idea how he ever thought she could do anything but love him.

Her old red bicycle lay hidden behind a pile of junk in her shed, taking a concentrated effort to pull it out from underneath all of the accumulated clutter. She pushed a hand down on the pedal to test it. The pedal squeaked, an impact of rust accumulating. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do; it was all she had while the bus remained broken.

Exiting the shed, she pushed the bike past the fields of her farm and onto the path towards the bus station. Pam barely noticed when Rose passed her, still focused intently on that cigarette. 

When Rose reached the road, she hoisted herself up on the bicycle’s seat and started to pedal. At first, the wheels resisted motion, but slowly, thankfully, they began to loosen up and start to move forward. She pedaled harder and harder until she finally managed to get a steady rhythm going.

The road whizzed by next to her, trees and grass and road signs passing in one long blur. Wind whipped her cheeks and sent her hair flying backwards, and she grinned, the rushing air stretching her lips back. The sensation of forward motion after so many weeks of feeling stuck made her feel light and free. The ribbon tied in her hair slowly came undone the longer she rode, and it eventually broke free, floating into the air. There, it sailed and danced in the breeze and the sight made her smile even wider.

 _I know it’s really stupid and cliche to say that someone changed your life, but you did, Rose. You’re gentle and you’re kind and you’re everything that I’m not, and I wish I could have been honest with you._

She barely even noticed the burning sensation in her calves or the sweat rolling down her cheeks or the flush that was surely spreading itself across the skin of her face. All she focused on was the road ahead of her and the way it stretched out for as long as the eye could see. The yellow dashed lines in the middle of the asphalt looked like arrows guiding her towards the horizon and up, up, up to the sun, where everything was bright and hopeful.

When the traffic started to grow heavier, that’s when Rose knew she’d almost arrived at her destination; the entrance to Zuzu City was always packed with cars. She ducked into the tunnel that acted as a barrier, sticking close to the walls. The orange lights cast a glow over the cars and illuminated the faces of the drivers.

 _What I’m trying to say is that you mean more to me than you’ll ever know, probably._

Emerging from the tunnel, Rose found that the streets were as congested as always. She struggled to push her bike in between the throngs of people, her legs still shaky after dismounting. Passerby elbowed and jostled her as she moved, but for once she didn’t mind. She only had her destination in mind. Or more accurately, she only had Shane on her mind.

She turned the corner onto the street her map had told her to look for. Then, miraculously, there it was, standing in front of her like a doorway to the unknown—the Zuzu City Rehabilitation Center. Behind those doors somewhere was Shane, the keeper of her heart even after all this time.

_I love you. You are home to me._

He thought he’d scratched out that postscript and erased it from existence, but she was able to make out the words when she’d read his letter. They were now permanently etched in her mind, repeating over and over again like a prayer—to what, she didn’t know.

But it was time to find out. She pushed open the door and walked inside.

“I’m here to visit Shane Newfeld.”


	18. A Changing Tide

When one of the counselors came to tell Shane he had a female visitor named Rose, he thought he was having some kind of dream. It wasn’t until he walked through the doors to the lobby and saw her standing in the middle of the room, strands of hair sticking up out of her braid and face flushed, that he knew he wasn’t hallucinating. 

As the doors opened, she turned to face him and his chest suddenly felt constricted. The expression on her face was unreadable, a flurry of emotions crossing it in a matter of seconds, and she stared at him with her lips slightly parted and eyes wide. She looked beautiful, and Shane wanted to hug her and bury his face in her hair to see if it still smelled a little bit like flowers.

They stepped closer to one another and Shane reached his arm out to touch her. She stood still, waiting as if with bated breath. Then she moved a bit closer to fill that space between them, the literal and metaphorical gap that had grown during their time apart.

Shane stopped just short of brushing a piece of stray hair from her face, then hesitated. After a few moments, Rose seemed to snap out of her reverie and flinched slightly, moving back to put more distance between them. Something in Shane’s heart broke as he watched her obvious discomfort.

What had he been thinking? He couldn’t just expect some grand reconciliation, like this was some romance movie where he’d sweep her up in a big kiss and all would be forgiven. He rubbed his neck and stared down at the ground.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Shouldn’t have done that.” 

He snapped his head up as Rose’s slender fingers curled around his elbow. She was looking at him with eyes that questioned, that demanded some form of explanation—yet they also contained a certain measure of forgiveness. At least, that’s what Shane hoped it was.

“I got your letter,” she said quietly.

Shane froze. So she’d received the letter after all. His mind started buzzing with all the possibilities of what she made of his apologies, his stupid ramblings, his useless thoughts, his dumb—

He stopped and took a deep breath. No more.

“You read the letter.” The words hung in the air, suspended by their weight.

He darted his glance away, unable to stand the intensity of Rose’s gaze, and saw the woman sitting behind the reception desk watching them with a careful eye. When she noticed him looking, she coughed and busied herself with the computer in front of her.

“We should talk outside,” Shane said. As he spoke, Rose peeled her fingers back from his arm. The spots where she’d touched him felt like burns on his skin, the imprints of her fingerprints mirroring the ones she had on his heart.

She nodded, and he led her out of the building and into the courtyard. The sun had started to dip below the the top of the building, a streak of pink and orange emerging in its place. Around them, bees hummed and buzzed between the clusters of bright flowers, making their final visits to collect pollen before it grew chilly in the darkness.

Shane took a seat on a gray slab that served as a bench and leaned forward, the cement digging into his hands. Rose stood and hovered for a moment, hesitant, before sitting next to him. She left a gap between their bodies but placed her hand so her fingers splayed out just an inch away from his. He thought of how, in another time, he would have reached out and grabbed her hand to interlace his fingers with hers, and he almost sighed.

“I came to see if it was true.” 

When she spoke, it was quiet. Thoughtful. Premeditated. It was the way she always talked, like every word mattered. He’d missed that balance to his own thoughtlessness and how things seemed to tumble out of his mouth without a second thought. 

He kept his gaze trained on the ground, fingers curling over the side of the bench. “Came to see if what was true?”

“What you wrote in the letter.” In a movement so smooth and swift he barely had time to register it, Rose placed a hand on his cheek and guided his head so he was facing her. Then, she ran her thumbs underneath each of his eyes. “The circles. They’re gone.”

Shane breathed in sharply, taking in the feel of her touch. Just that little contact, like when she’d wrapped her hand around his arm in the lobby, made him ache with longing for what he’d lost.

But she was here, wasn’t she? Maybe all hope wasn’t lost.

It was like she’d opened the dam he’d built in his heart with that simple action, and before he had a chance to catch himself, a choked sob rose out of his throat. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I really did…I really did mean that. When I wrote you.”

Rose laughed and dropped her hands. She stared up at the sky, squinting into its vibrant colors. “I know I shouldn’t believe you after everything that’s happened but,” she said, “I do.” She swallowed and looked down at her lap. “Or maybe I just want to believe that you’re committed to recovery this time.”

“I don’t know if I’m doing this all right, but I’m trying,” Shane said with a deep exhale. “I feel more stable than I have been in a really long time. Not necessarily happy, but in an okay place.”

Rose nodded but said nothing.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” Shane said. “I just thought I should at least try to make up for all the shit I’ve done, you know?”

She still said nothing for several quiet moments. Then she started to speak once more.

“If we’re going to do this again.” Rose paused, hands visibly shaking in her lap. “If we’re going to this again, it has to be different. You have to be better. You can’t just…you can’t just…” She took a shaky breath in. 

He almost reached out to rub her back when he heard the trembling in her voice, but stopped himself.

“I know,” he said. “I can’t just take things out on you. Blame everyone else for my problems. Drink to cope instead of talking to people. Lie and keep everything hidden when I’m struggling. These are the things I’ve been trying to work through here.”

She looked at him in surprise, eyes revealing an earnest openness. 

“I’ve been thinking a lot,” she said, her words sounding clearer and more confident. “About forgiveness and how to give it. I think I…I want to try. To forgive you.” She gestured between them. “To try this again. And maybe that’s stupid of me, but I want to. I think with a little more time and rebuilding we could do this for…for real.”

Here she was, giving him the thing he wanted most from her: forgiveness. He wanted a chance to be let back into her heart and her life, and she was offering it to him with open arms.

Did he have the courage to accept it with grace?

“I think we should—”

“I still love you,” Rose blurted out, cutting him off. Her eyes brimmed with a layer of tears. “Somehow after all of this, I still do.”

Shane’s heart leapt and did a backflip in his chest. 

“I love you,” he said, “more than you’ll ever know.” 

Their hands were back where they’d started, next to one another on the bench. He moved his so that it rested on top of hers, and they stayed like that for a while, listening to the quiet sounds of life in the garden. A peaceful night fell around them.

* * *

Shane’s first thought when he returned to the valley was that the grass was too damn green, like it was fake; it was the same thought he’d had all those years ago when he first moved in with his aunt. This time, though, it felt like a gentle reminder that he was home. He was back where he belonged.

Marnie and Jas were waiting at the bus station for him. Jas had on a pink dress, one that he hadn’t seen before, and Marnie wore her nice pants. As soon as he stepped foot on the ground, Jas practically bowled him over with her hug. When had she gotten so strong and big?

When they returned home, Shane found himself welcomed by one of Marnie’s signature home cooked meals. She’d prepared spaghetti with meatballs that had a little bit of a spice to them—she knew how much Shane enjoyed the flavor of hot foods. He was touched she remembered that detail about him and wondered how many little things like that he’d forgotten; he’d been too busy listening to the rattling thoughts in his head instead of the people in his life.

“This looks great, Aunt Marnie,” he said as they took their seats at the kitchen table. “Much better than the cafeteria food I’ve been eating for the past five weeks.”

Marnie laughed and beamed at him. “Oh, you seem much more chipper these days,” she said. She looked at Jas, then back at Shane. “We’re so proud of you.”

Shane blushed a furious red, embarrassed by the praises of his aunt. He didn’t feel like he’d done anything remarkable or special. All he’d done was get the help he should’ve gotten months ago, before he ruined the relationships that meant the most to him. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled, staring at his plate. He picked up his fork and fiddled with it.

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop embarrassing you,” Marnie said as she doled out helpings of dinner.

As they ate, Jas caught Shane up on every minute detail of her life, down to each lesson that Miss Penny taught and every game she and Vincent played. He listened intently as she spoke and longed for his own childhood, when things had been much simpler.

And Luke was still alive, a small, deadly, little voice in the back of his voice told him. He noticed it and told it to be quiet. The thought went away.

“Sounds like you had a hel—heck of a time while I was gone,” he said and shoved a forkful of pasta in his mouth. He was glad he caught himself before swearing in front of Jas, especially with Marnie around. It had been a while since he’d had to watch his language like that.

After dinner, as they cleared off the table, Marnie insisted she needed to talk to “Uncle Shane” alone and sent Jas to her room. Shane suddenly felt nervous at the prospect that his aunt needed to talk to him without Jas present. It made him feel like he was a child again, about to be scolded for something he’d done wrong.

As soon as Jas closed her door behind her, Marnie pointed towards the sink overflowing with dishes. Shane nodded and rolled up his sleeves. The sink filled with soapy water, and he got to work scrubbing at the pots and pans and plates they’d left after dinner.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” he said with a grunt, dreading whatever line of questioning Marnie had for him. He was used to being interrogated by her, but he hadn’t done anything in the few hours he’d been home to warrant that. At least, he didn’t think he had.

“Heard Rose paid you a visit before you came home,” she said as she wiped down a set of forks with a dish rag. “Thought you could keep that one from me?”

Shane shrugged. He thought about asking how she’d found out, but it was a small town and his aunt had her ways, as always. “Didn’t think it was any of your business,” he said. “Then again, you’ve never seemed to care about that fact.”

“Shane, don’t start with me.” There was a warning edge to Marnie’s voice, and she gripped the dish rag tighter.

He sighed and slumped over the sink. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m actually really grateful that you pushed me to go get help. I needed it.”

“I’m glad you went,” she said with a small smile. “You seem happier now than before. I can see a difference, even if you can’t.”

Shane suddenly looked up at Marnie, and an expression of concern crossed her face at the seriousness of his own expression. 

“Rose came to tell me that she wants to try again and work things out. Rebuild our relationship,” he said. “And I want to more than anything, but I’m not really sure how to go about doing that. All I did before was screw everything up, and I…I’m scared.”

“Let me tell you something,” Marnie said and set down the rag. “What you and Rose have is special and it’s something that I’ve wanted to have for years.”

“Lewis is such a—”

Marnie waved her hand. “Never mind Lewis,” she said. “You won’t lose her this time because you know what you did wrong last time. I know you do. You need to be honest with her, and you need to make an effort.”

“I know that, but how—”

Marnie sighed and placed her hands on her hips. “Honestly, Shane. Just listen to her, that’s the most important part. And remember that you love her and want to make this work. Okay?”

“Okay,” Shane said and focused on scrubbing the bottom of a pan that had some stubborn food bits stuck to it. “I’ll try.”

“Good.”

Shane stopped mid-scrub and looked over towards Marnie again. “I want to quit my job,” he said, words coming out in a jumble. “I want to work on the ranch instead of Joja Mart and pay my rent that way. I hate it there, and my counselor thinks I should quit, and I really like taking care of the animals here on the weekends.”

Marnie held up her hand to stop him, then smiled. 

“I think we could work something out,” she said. “If it means that much to you. Your happiness is more important to me.”

Shane dropped the pan he was holding with a sudden jerk and it landed in the water, causing some of the liquid to splash up and soak the front of his shirt. He ignored it and turned to wrap his arms tightly around Marnie. She hugged him back, rubbing a soothing hand up and down his back. A sign of motherly affection—in many ways, Marnie was more of a mother to him than his actual mom. He was eternally grateful for her presence in his life, even if she meddled sometimes.

“Thank you, Aunt Marnie,” he whispered.

* * *

Rose came to visit on a Wednesday, two days after he quit his job at Joja Mart. He’d shuffled out of bed early in the morning as Marnie had requested he do when he was to work on the ranch; thankfully, it was still a later hour than when he used to leave for work at the supermarket.

“Hi, Shane,” Marnie greeted him as he stepped into the kitchen. She gingerly tilted a kettle of boiling water over a mug, watching the liquid spill out with steam curling from the kettle’s spout. It was about that time for her morning tea. “I was hoping you could take care of the chickens first. One of them has been looking a bit down lately, I think she might be sick.”

Shane nodded, rubbing his eyes. “Got it,” he said. “I’ll take care of everything.”

As he walked into the coop, the sounds of chickens clucking in unison welcomed him, and he felt at peace. It was a feeling he’d never experienced walking into the harsh lights and frigid air of the Joja Mart.

Morris had thrown an absolute fit when Shane announced he was quitting, his face turning that unflattering shade of red that it always did when he was truly mad. Normally, his boss hid himself behind a cool and slimy exterior, but in those moments when he let his anger get the best of him, though, it was easy to tell.

Shane had remained silent beyond those two words—“I quit”—and thrown his hat down on the desk before walking out under those fluorescent lights for the last time. He smiled to himself as he scattered feed for the chickens as he thought about never having to see that son of a bitch ever again.

Rain started to come down in sheets outside the coop a little while after he started working. The weatherman had called for an all-day spring shower, typical for the valley that time of year. Normally, gloomy weather enhanced Shane’s depression and made him want to curl up in a ball in his room, but more recently he’d been trying to get up and do something productive when he felt that urge. The pills he’d started taking under the supervision of the doctors at the center took some of the edge off that intense desire to wallow, too.

Shane was so focused on completing the day’s tasks that he didn’t notice at first that he had a visitor.

“Shane.” He jumped, startled by Rose’s voice behind him. “Um, hi.”

He turned around to see her standing by the entrance to the coop, drenched from the sudden onslaught of pouring rain. Her clothes were completely soaked through, and she’d taken her hair out of its braid, strands hanging down in damp waves.

“Rose,” he said, stumbling over his words. He stood up straighter and tried to brush the dirt off his pants. Although, he realized after that Rose almost always had stains on her clothes from working on the farm and probably wouldn’t notice. “What are you doing here?”

“I, um, thought I would come see how you were doing. Now that you’re officially back and all,” she said and took another step into the coop. A chicken by her foot clucked and shuffled away. “I heard you quit your job at Joja Mart.”

“Yeah,” Shane said with a small laugh. “It was about damn time. Didn’t realize just how soul sucking it was until I started working for my aunt and it’s only been two days.”

“I think it’s great,” Rose said and smiled. The dimples on her cheeks appeared, and Shane allowed himself a soft smile of his own when she wasn’t looking. “I always thought farm work would suit you. Should’ve hired you myself.”

“Might’ve kept me out of trouble that way,” Shane said, and they both let out short laughs.

An uncomfortable silence settled over the enclosure, and Shane shifted his weight back and forth, unsure of what to say next. He darted his gaze back and forth between the back of the coop and Rose, who was staring at a spot on the wall.

“I biked to Zuzu, you know,” she said as she snapped her head to the side to look at Shane. “That day I came to see you.”

Shane stuttered a few times in disbelief. “You…you biked,” he repeated. “All the way to Zuzu City. For me. To see _me_.”

Rose stared down at the ground and folded her arms across her chest. She chewed her lip. “The bus was broken,” she said, “and I wanted to see you.”

Without thinking, he closed the distance between them and tucked a piece of wet hair that clung to her face behind her ear. She looked up at him from underneath her eyelashes.

“Even after all this time,” he said, “you’re still too good for me.”

They locked eyes, and for a few tense beats, Shane deliberated whether or not to kiss her. Her admission—that she’d cycled the many miles to the city just to talk to him—had made his heart flutter and beat so hard he thought it was going to burst from his chest and fly out of the coop. 

He thought she might have been leaning in, but at the last second she swerved her head and brushed her lips against his cheek. It was a gentle, slow kiss, and she lingered with her mouth near his skin even after pulling away. He could feel droplets of water that rolled off the ends of her hair fall onto his shirt.

She stepped back slowly and said, “You are good enough. You just don’t fully realize it yet.” Her face turned a faint shade of red. 

“Right,” Shane said, feeling dizzy.

“But you’re getting there,” she said with the tiniest of smiles gracing her face. “And when you do realize it, I’ll be here. Waiting for you to come home for good, to be the Shane I know you can be.”

“Rose, I—”

“Come by my farm tomorrow after work, okay? We should talk.”

Rose left him there, mouth hanging open, as she slipped out of the coop and back into the rain. The rattling of the rain against the sides of the enclosure matched the thudding of his heart for a long time afterwards.


	19. A Spot of Hope

“When I walk beside her,  
I am a better man.  
When I look to leave her,  
I always stagger back again.  
Once I built an ivory tower  
So I could worship from above  
And when I climbed down to be set free,  
She took me in again.” **-Indio (Hard Sun)**

* * *

It took Shane a full three days to take Rose up on her offer to talk at the farmhouse. She opened the door on an overcast day, rain coming down in a slight drizzle, to see Shane standing there with one hand raised as if to knock and the other shoved into his hoodie pocket. He gaped at her, and the only thing that came out of his mouth was a puff of air.

“Hi, Shane,” she said, her voice sounding weak. She’d felt so confident talking to him the other day in the chicken coop, but now, nerves tingled in every inch of her body—partly from excitement and partly from anxiety. “Um, come on in.”

He gave a brief nod, then stepped inside with a sense of caution about him. Both of his hands were now stuffed into his hoodie pockets, and he slouched over just slightly.

Rose cleared her throat. “Would you like some coffee?” she said. “It’s a little chilly out there I guess, rain and all.”

Shane nodded again. “Yeah,” he said. “Weather has been so damned awful lately. Too much rain.”

Rose made a noise of agreement as she prepped a hot cup of coffee for Shane. She remembered how he used to be on rainy days, all melancholy and faraway gazes and lethargy; his depression always hit the hardest when the weather was gloomy. She wondered if it had gotten any better since his time away.

“Here you go,” she said and handed him the mug, which was now filled with steaming, hot coffee. It swirled in the cup, forming small patterns with the small amount of creamer she’d put in. Their fingers brushed as Shane took it from her.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Um,” Rose said, unsure of how to start the conversation they desperately needed to have. “Do you want to—”

“I want to make this work,” Shane blurted out. He stopped, took a deep breath, and then continued at a slower pace. “I know I was an idiot before, and I want to make sure that never happens again. That I never…that I never lose you again.”

His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, as if he was struggling to find more words. He put the coffee mug on the table with a sudden slam, causing liquid to spill down the sides, and reached forward to embrace Rose. His grip was tight with his fingertips pressing into her back.

Rose’s arms hung by her side for a few beats before she moved to return the hug. Her hands touched his back with hesitance, then deepened, clutching him tightly.

“You won’t,” she said, barely above a whisper. “We’ll make it work. We’ll make _us_ work.”

Shane took in a shaky breath and broke their embrace. He stepped back. “You’re sure? You’re sure you want to…” Another shaky breath. “Take me back.”

Rose moved forward and placed a hand on his cheek. “I’m sure,” she said.

“Okay,” he said as he put his hand over hers. “Let’s um, let’s talk.”

Together, they made their way to that beat up couch of Rose’s—the one where they’d first said “I love you” to one another, she recalled—and sat down. As the rain tapped lightly on the glass and the clock by the kitchen ticked in the background, they talked, filling the air with words that should’ve been spoken a long time ago.

* * *

“He loves me.”

The pale, purple flower petal fluttered to the ground.

“He loves me not.”

Jas ripped another petal from the flower she was holding, pinched it between her tiny fingers, and let it fall to the earth.

“You alright there, Jas?” Rose poked her head out from behind a bunch of flowers to check on Jas. Ever since their interaction by the docks, Rose had set up more times to play with Jas and found that she really enjoyed spending time with the younger girl. 

“Yeah,” Jas sighed. “I’m trying to figure out if Vincent likes me or not.”

Rose bit her lip to keep from giggling. Her own childhood had been much like Jas’s in the sense that she was always crushing on some other boy in her class, dreaming of some happily-ever-after fantasy. “Is that so?”

“Mmhmm,” Jas said. Another flower petal was forcibly removed from its stem. “One day he’ll tell me I’m the prettiest girl he knows and the next he says he wants to marry Miss Penny.”

“I think he likes you and just doesn’t know how to say it,” Rose said as she tilted a watering can over a patch of tulips. “Boys are like that sometimes.”

“I just want to be in love like you and Uncle Shane,” Jas said with a pout, and Rose suddenly froze. Even though she’d been slowly reintegrating herself into Shane’s life and he into hers, and it was starting to feel like how it had been before, there was still an element of newness to it all that took her off guard from time to time. “Or like…or like my mom and dad.”

“Oh.” A strong sense of pity gripped Rose. She had been fortunate enough to have a couple of decades with her father, but Jas hadn’t even gotten that with her parents. 

Having torn all the petals off and dumped them in an unceremonious heap by her feet, Jas’s flower was nothing but a stem. She twirled it in her hands.

“Yeah, I miss them a lot,” she said softly. She looked up at Rose. “Do you ever miss anyone, Miss Rose?”

Almost unconsciously, Rose set down her watering can and reached a hand up to press on her heart. Thinking about her father always made it feel like her heart was beating slower. She counted the beats as she exhaled; even after all this time, her dad’s passing was a wound that never seemed to fully close.

Jas studied her with a curious look on her face.

“My dad,” Rose said finally. “He’s gone the way that your parents are. He was in the hospital for a very long time, but it hurt too much for him to stay.”

Jas thought for a moment. “What do you do when you miss him?” she asked.

“I like to plant these flowers,” Rose said, gesturing in front of her at the garden that sprawled across the farmland. “Whenever I feel sad, I plant a new one because he liked flowers, just like you. It always makes me remember the good times we had together.” As she spoke, Rose could feel a smile making its way across her face as she thought about the flowers she used to plant in the windowsill of their cramped apartment—the ones that were his favorites.

“I want to do something like that,” Jas said. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she thought. “I want to have…a ceremony.”

Rose raised her eyebrows. “A ceremony?”

“Yeah.” Jas nodded excitedly. “A ceremony for my parents. We can plant a…a tree, just like you plant flowers, and Uncle Shane can tell stories about my mom and dad. He always has the best stories.”

“Okay,” Rose said. Jas’s enthusiasm touched her heart. “I’ll talk to your Uncle Shane.”

Shane was worried when Rose brought up the idea (“What if she gets upset? Marnie and I never talk about what happened with Luke and Ellie with her”), but she had reassured him that Jas was could handle it.

“Besides,” she’d said, “You can’t keep ignoring that it happened forever. If she wants to start acknowledging and working through her pain, then you should let her.”

“You’re right,” he said. “Guess you can’t ignore grief.”

“No,” Rose said quietly, placing a gentle hand on his back. “You can’t.”

They looked at one another, bittersweet sentiment mirrored in each other’s expressions. Rose slid her hand down towards Shane’s and interlaced their fingers.

The ceremonial tree planting—as Jas had so named the event—took place on Rose’s farm, right by the flower garden. In the years since she’d moved to the valley, she had started to cultivate a small orchard of fruit trees that grew near her flowers.

Gardening shovel in hand, Rose kneeled next to an open space in the orchard. “This okay, Jas?” she asked. Jas nodded and sat down by Rose’s side. 

Shane crouched by Jas’s other side. “Let’s do this,” he said and took the shovel from Rose so he could hand it to Jas.

Jas dug up a several small shovelfuls of dirt and tossed them to the side with vigor. The dirt flew and nearly landed on Shane, but he dodged just in time. “Geez, kid,” he said with a laugh. “Maybe slow down a bit there.”

Jas giggled. “Sorry, Uncle Shane,” she said and gave him the shovel. “Okay, now it’s your turn.”

“My turn?”

“Yeah,” Jas said. “We’re all going to take turns.”

Shane nodded and started digging. When he’d created a sizable hole, he passed the shovel to Rose, who finished the job much quicker than Jas and Shane would have. 

The sapling fit into the ground with a little bit of effort from both Rose and Jas; the latter insisted she be the one to plant the tree but wasn’t quite able to lift it. All three of them filled the hole and patted down the dirt with their hands.

They stood up and circled the sapling, hand in hand per Jas’s request, and had a moment of silence. Rose watched Shane, who had his face turned up towards the sky and his eyes closed. He looked like he was in pain, and she wondered if he would ever find a release from his constant grief; she wondered the same thing about herself sometimes, too.

“Uncle Shane,” Jas said after a few minutes. She tugged on Shane’s pant leg, and he snapped his head down and opened his eyes. “Tell the stories.”

As they stood, Shane shared stories of his time with Luke and Ellie—sad, happy, and in between—and Jas listened, enraptured by his tales. They told of a lifetime of friendship that had woven itself so deeply into the fabric of Shane’s life that it was inseparable from who he was as a person. Rose squeezed his hand when she noticed tears forming in his eyes. He gave her a close-lipped smile and blinked the tears away, determined to keep going for Jas. The stories grew long and detailed and emotional the more he spoke.

Maybe this was Shane’s release, Rose thought. A brief respite.

When he finally finished, there was a stillness.

“Thank you, Uncle Shane,” Jas said and broke the silence. There was an unmistakable wobble in her voice.

Then a breeze rustled the trees and the flowers, causing petals and leaves to shake loose and swirl around them in a gorgeous storm. Jas watched in awe, tiny mouth in a stretching smile, as they floated in the air and circled around and around. Rose thought she’d never seen Shane look so at peace as he watched his goddaughter, every muscle in his face coming out of its permanent clench. 

Shane bent down to place a gentle hand on Jas’s shoulder. “See that, Jas?” he whispered, a small smile growing on his face. “That means they’re happy right now, and they’re so very proud of you.”

A tear rolled down Jas’s cheek, and Shane immediately moved to wipe it away, alarm evident on his face. To his obvious relief, though, she smiled again even as more tears sprung from her eyes.

“Hi, Mom,” she whispered to the sky, to the petals, to the world. “Hi, Dad.”

On the other side of Jas, Rose kneeled down to rest upon the ground, her hand placed on the girl’s arm in a comforting gesture. The three of them, Rose, Shane, and Jas, stood in silent unity with one another, an understanding of the complicated feelings of loss passing between them. Rose thought it unified them, made the bond between them something strong and enduring—in the ashes of grief, they’d created something wonderful together.

Rose said a prayer for her father and hoped he was proud of her. That he had watched the way she’d turned her grandfather’s old farm into a place full of life and hope. In a strange way, watching the swirl of petals around them made the wound of her father’s passing feel just a little bit less permanent. Like in time, it might begin to stitch itself up.

Rose stared up at the beautiful tornado around them, and when she thought no one was looking, mouthed the words, “Hi, Dad.”

She turned her head to see Shane watching her with a gentle expression, unfiltered love written in the lines of his face. Her heart fluttered the same way that the petals did, when they finally calmed down and made their way back down to the ground.

* * *

The Flower Dance that year was a quiet affair at the Newfeld household. Rose and Shane slipped unnoticed out the front door of the ranch that morning without so much as a peep from Marnie. Rose suspected that his aunt may have been trying to avoid putting too much pressure on Shane so soon after his return from rehab; she took Jas to the dance herself, leaving him to spend the day in peace with Rose instead of having to deal with the townspeople gossiping about their rekindled relationship.

Despite their agreement to not attend the festival, Rose still decided to throw on her nice yellow dress, the same one she’d worn to go visit Shane in the city. She also weaved together a crown of flowers, just as she had the past two years.

Three years. How had it been three years since she’d moved to the home of her father’s childhood? It almost didn’t feel real, but Shane reaching down to hold her hand grounded her. 

Their relationship since their big talk at the farm had moved in small, soft touches and little glances, neither one wanting to push too hard. Underneath it all lay a constant fear of everything falling apart again, so they kept the physical intimacy from escalating too quickly as much as possible.

They were passing by the docks when Shane suddenly let out a laugh. “I’m so glad we don’t have to go and make small talk with everyone.” He shuddered. “They’re so goddamn nosy and exhausting sometimes.”

Rose smiled. “Me too,” she said. “I don’t know if I could handle everyone looking at us today.”

He nudged her with his shoulder. “Yeah, they probably think you’re a fucking idiot for taking me back.”

She shoved him off with a giggle. “I am,” she said. Then she paused to give him a genuine smile. “But I’m happy. I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he said softly as he brushed his fingers through her hair.

They resumed walking, the bright, green grass soft underfoot. Together, they passed the mysterious tower on the edge of the woods and made their way through the thick clearing of trees that surrounded the secret forest. At last, they were able to return to Rose’s favorite spot in the valley together again. The thought of it caused her heart to grow warm.

“It’s been a long time,” Shane said, as if reading her mind. His voice echoed and bounced through the trees.

Rose breathed in deeply, the fresh air and smell of pine filling her nose. “This is nice,” she said. I missed this, was the unspoken continuation of that thought. She’d missed a lot of things in her time apart from Shane.

They took a seat side by side on an old tree stump and watched as birds fluttered and leaves fell gently in the breeze around them. 

“Things are so much more peaceful now,” Shane said. He looked at her as he spoke, eyes flickering over the features of her face. “I thought it would be a lot more difficult to come home, but…I feel okay. For once.”

“You’re doing so much better these days,” she said, brushing his hair back from his forehead. Recently, he’d been letting it grow longer than normal, so that the tips of his side part would sometimes fall just a little bit on his face. “I can tell and I’m…I’m really proud of you, Shane.”

Shane blushed a crimson red and rubbed his hand behind his neck. “Don’t know why everyone keeps saying that,” he mumbled. “All I did was get help I should’ve gotten a long time ago.”

“Yeah but,” Rose said, “it took courage.” She moved her thumb down to brush over his cheek.

“You look beautiful today,” he said. Then he blushed again and fumbled over his words. “Well, I mean, you always look beautiful, but I guess today you look extra nice or whatever.”

Rose held up a hand to stop him and laughed. “I understand,” she said. “Thank you.”

A comfortable silence formed between them. Rose was grateful for that trait of Shane’s, that he never needed to fill empty spaces with empty words. Instead, he just stood up and held out a hand. Rose took it and let him lead her to the center of the clearing, where wildflowers popped up between long blades of grass and tickled the bare skin of her calves.

He twirled her around once, slowly, then pulled her in with a clumsy movement characteristic of Shane. Gently, with one hand resting on her lower back and the other clasping her hand, he started to move back and forth in a dance.

As they swayed, he studied her features with a tenderness. The green of his eyes, framed by long, dark lashes, turned her insides to something warm and gooey, just as they always had. They moved closer. 

“Can I?” Shane breathed. Their lips hovered just an inch away from one another.

Rose nodded, breathless, and he brought his mouth to hers.

It had been so long since they’d kissed, but their lips fit together like two pieces of a missing puzzle—the way her romance novels described it—and Rose felt herself being swept up and away into the clouds. At the same time, though, she was on solid ground, and the earth under her feet had never been more alive. 

This was beautiful. This was right. This was their time.

Shane reached his hands up to tenderly caress her cheeks and pulled her face back to look at him. “I’m still so sorry for everything, Rose.” His eyes were earnest and wide. “I really am. I just can’t begin to explain how—”

Rose pressed a finger to his mouth, and he quieted as she ran the tip along his upper lip before kissing him again. But it seemed he couldn’t resist speaking again as he whispered “I love you” in between partings. Still Rose said nothing, following the instinct she’d had her entire life to stay quiet when actions could do more than words ever could.

When they finally broke apart, Rose buried her face in his neck and pressed her lips quickly to the skin there before growing still.

“I love you, Shane Newfeld,” she said. Her voice was quiet, warm, yet strong. 

It was certain.


	20. A Peaceful Future

“Failing to fetch me at first, keep encouraged,  
Missing me one place, search another,  
I stop somewhere waiting for you.” **-Walt Whitman**

* * *

“Shane.”

His eyes opened with a steady creak, lids peeling back bit by bit. He had only one thought as he began to regain consciousness:

It was Summer 16. The day Luke died.

But he wasn’t hungover the way he had been the first few years after the accident. His head didn’t pulse to some drumline that only he could hear, and his body didn’t feel sluggish and worn down, as if he was being held underwater. Then again, he hadn’t felt any of those things since going to rehab.

Shane held up a hand to shield his gaze from the sunlight streaming through the windows. Slowly, his mind came out of the fuzziness of sleep. He was in Rose’s house and she lay beside him, body facing his side. She shook his arm.

“Shane?” This time, it was a question punctuated by concern. She shook his arm harder. “Are you okay? I know it’s—”

He moved his arm so he could lean over and press a kiss to her cheek. 

“I know,” he said. “It’s okay. I’m okay. I just feel…”

Rose nodded and left a quick peck on his lips before stepping out of bed. Her absence created a cold feeling beside him, but he knew that she had to get to work before it got to be too late in the day. 

She touched his shoulder. “Do you want to feed the chickens or should I take care of it?”

Shane bolted upright, tugging on the ends of his hair. “Oh shit,” he said. “I told you I’d do that, didn’t I? I’m sorry, Rose, I’m just so—”

She pressed a finger to his mouth as she shushed him. “Don’t worry about it, okay?” she said. “This is a tough day for you.”

He nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “It is. I think this might…this might be a bad depression day for me. Just so you know.” Since coming home, he’d been trying to be more forthright with the people in his life about when he was having a bad mental health day. It was something his counselor had suggested he try, and while he wasn’t perfect at it, he felt it made a small difference in his relationships.

“That’s understandable,” she said and rubbed his shoulder.. “Will you be okay for dinner? I think Marnie and Jas still wanted to stop by.”

Shane slumped over with a sigh. “Right,” he said. “I forgot they wanted to come over today. Think Jas is finally old enough to realize what day it is.” 

His heart twinged with sadness as he said it. Since the tree planting ceremony, Jas had started asking him and Marnie more questions about Luke and Ellie. She had even wanted to see photographs of them when they were still alive. It was painful to delve into that past, but Shane knew he couldn’t shield her from the truth forever.

“It’s okay, I can tell them not to come if you don’t want—”

Shane cut her off with a kiss—long, slow, and deep, his hand cradling the side of her face. When he pulled away, she studied him with a frown.

“What was that for?” she said. Then she smiled. “I mean, it was nice, but…”

He shrugged. “Just for being so…understanding. And everything.” He took a deep breath in and out and touched his forehead to hers. “I think they should come today. For dinner. It’ll help me.”

Rose nodded. “Okay,” she said. “Whatever you need today, I’m here.”

“I know.” A pause. “You always are.”

Rose gave him one last hug before leaving to tend to the farm. Shane lay back down and rolled over to face the wood-paneled wall. He studied the small patterns that formed in the wood for a while, knowing that he just needed to be patient with himself. The negative thoughts and sad memories would fade with time. And when he was ready, he would go out and join Rose on the farm.

* * *

Jas came in the house—like she often did—with the subtlety of an elephant barging in through the front door, announcing her arrival with a shout that echoed down the hall: “Uncle Shane! Aunt Marnie and I are here!”

“Just a minute,” Shane called back from the bathroom, where he’d been tidying up before they got there. Rose had asked him to replace the hand towels; she was always much more meticulous and neat than he was. If it were left to him, nothing would ever get cleaned, whether it was at the farmhouse or the ranch. 

He finished adjusting the final hand towel on its rack and stepped outside into the hallway, where he was immediately tackled by Jas. She hugged him tight and, when she pulled away, grabbed him by the hand and dragged him to the kitchen.

In the short time since they’d arrived, Marnie had set up station by the stove, helping Rose prepare for dinner. Rose had done a great job of putting together the meal so far—Shane had smelled it cooking all through the late afternoon into the evening—but she needed Marnie to add those finishing touches.

Shane watched television with Jas while they waited, and she flipped through the channels on Rose’s old, antenna-operated TV, refusing to stop on any one show for longer than a few seconds.

“Gee, kid,” Shane said with a laugh as he reached over and tugged one of her pigtails. “Can’t watch all of them at the same time.”

Jas pouted. “I can _try_ ,” she said. 

Her stubbornness, although childish, was Luke through and through; with every day that passed, Shane could see more of her parents in her. But instead of bringing him grief, like the thought normally did, it made him proud to see their traits live on in their daughter. He knew it meant she would grow up to be a good person like them.

Rose came over to join Shane and Jas as Marnie took over the kitchen. Shane had heard Rose quietly insisting that Marnie was her guest, but his aunt would have none of it. He craned his neck to see her puttering around the cabinets with purpose.

Shane looked at Rose with an amused expression on his face. “Just let her be,” he said. “My aunt likes this kind of stuff.”

Rose sighed and sat down on the other side of Shane. “At least I can say I tried to be a good host,” she said and let out a small laugh.

He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You’re a wonderful host,” he murmured and grinned as he watched goosebumps erupt on the skin of her neck and face. The fact that she still had that reaction to his touch, even after all this time, made him happy.

“Miss Rose,” Jas said, interrupting their moment and causing both Shane and Rose to whip their heads around to face her, a blush prominent on both of their cheeks. Jas was holding up a maroon photo album that had previously been sitting on the end table closest to her side of the couch. “What’s this?”

Rose reached over Shane and gently took the album from Jas’s hands. She smiled softly. “That’s my old family photo album,” she said. She looked back up at Jas. “Want to see?”

Jas nodded and Shane moved so that Rose could sit in the middle. She opened the book on her lap to a black and white photograph of a man grinning and holding up an ear of corn. Behind him were fields of crops.

“Hey,” Jas said. She pointed to the photograph. “That looks like your farm.”

“That’s because it is my farm,” Rose said. “This is a photo of my grandfather, who used to take care of it before I did.” That soft smile lingered on her face, and it made Shane’s heart feel warm and fuzzy.

Then she turned the page and froze.

In the middle of the page was a photo of four people: an older man, a younger couple, and a small girl. Shane squinted at the woman in the couple, noting that she looked a lot like Rose’s mom. That’s when it hit him that this was a photograph of Rose’s family when she was a child.

He placed a comforting hand on her back and could feel her tense muscles relax slightly under his touch. In the quiet between the three of them, she brushed her finger over the laminate on top of the photo. Slowly, carefully, she traced the lines of the faces, of the family she no longer had; he knew her relationship with her mom had improved significantly, but she would never get back the family of that photograph. It was forever torn and lost to time.

“Who’s that?” Jas said, her voice quiet as if she’d sensed Rose’s grief. 

Rose let out a long exhale. “That’s my family,” she said. She pointed first to the older man. “That’s my grandfather, who you saw before.” Then she moved her finger to the man in the couple. “That’s…that’s my dad.” Rose’s voice became more strained. “He was very special to me.”

Shane squeezed her shoulder. “You don’t have to keep going,” he said.

Rose shook her head and moved to her mother, the woman in the couple. “And this is my mother,” she said to Jas. “She and I…didn’t get along for a while. But now we love each other again.”

Finally, Rose pointed to herself, the young girl with the long, braided hair. 

“And that’s me.”

They were silent for a few moments after Rose finished talking, up until Marnie called them all over for dinner. Shane was grateful for the distraction, afraid that Rose was upset, but the look on her face was strangely peaceful. She squeezed his hand after closing the photo album, and he caught a flicker of a smile from her before they got up from the couch.

On the table sat a beautiful array of food, and Shane thought that his aunt had finally outdone herself. “This looks really good, Aunt Marnie,” he said.

“Yes, thank you so much for helping me, Marnie,” Rose said. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Marnie beamed at them. “The pleasure was all mine, really.”

They all sat around the table, hands clasped together, as Marnie gave thanks for the evening. Everyone had their head bowed as she spoke of the delicious food and the beautiful summer weather and the pleasure of having good company.

“And I wanted to give thanks,” she finished, “for this family coming together and supporting one another today.”

At the word family, Rose’s head shot up from where it had been bent down towards the table, and Shane had never seen her look so grateful and…content. 

“That’s right, Rose,” Marnie said and winked. “You’re a part of our bunch too, whether you like it or not.”

Rose’s grin grew wider, and she locked eyes with Shane. He smiled back.

“I love being a part of your family, Marnie,” she said. “More than you’ll ever know.”

As they ate together, keeping one another company on a day that normally marked Shane’s darkest hour, he found that he agreed with Rose. And for that, he was thankful.

* * *

The day’s rain came down in slashing waves and sudden strikes of lightning. It wasn’t unusual weather for the valley at that time of year, with all the summer humidity building in the clouds. What was unusual, though, was that Shane had stepped out for a walk during such a storm. He was on a mission.

The last time Shane had walked outside the ranch in a thunderstorm like this, he hadn’t intended to return. Instead, he thought he might just disappear into the oblivion of the rain’s onslaught. It was supposed to be his easy out, a way to escape the pain that had made a home in his heart. It would have worked, too, had Rose not found him by the side of a cliff and taken him to get help. 

But she’d given him a second chance to do it right.

He hadn’t meant to come home. Now, he was planning for a future he never thought he’d have.

_“Let me ask you this,” the counselor said, gesturing towards him. “If you were to describe an ideal life for yourself, what would that look like?”_

_“I…I live on Rose’s farm,” he said, the words coming out before he even processed the question fully and had time to second guess himself. “And I help, I take of the animals, like the chickens and the cows and the sheep, and she grows all the crops and those beautiful flowers she has.”_

_As Shane talked quietly, he could picture the life he was describing in his head in sharp clarity. In his mind’s eye, it was a gentle spring day on the farm and he fed the chickens while watching Rose tend crops from afar. “Jas would come live with us too, and I’d be a good dad to her, and Rose could be kind of like her mom. And Rose and I, we would be happy together.”_

_The counselor smiled at him and gave a nod of positive affirmation. “Don’t you think you could have all of those things? They seem well within your reach.”_

Shane closed his eyes, and there it was—the life he’d imagined for himself. It was a gorgeous spring day. He and Rose woke up together at the earliest signs of dawn and made their way out onto the farm. Jas slept soundly in a room down the hall, but he knew that when she woke up, she would help Rose out with the flowers. When they stepped outside the door and into the sunshine, Mitzy let out a small bark of greeting. All was calm.

He opened his eyes.

For the first time in his life, Shane thought he might actually be able to have the peaceful life he craved deep down in his heart. It was right in front of him, and all he had to do was reach out and grab it and hold on tighter than he’d ever held anything before.

He just had to make it through this damn thunderstorm first.

As Shane stumbled through the storm and squinted through the sheets of rain that obscured his vision, he decided that of all of Pelican Town’s bullshit traditions, this was by far the worst one. Would he really would find an old mariner on the island by the beach? Why did he only visit the valley when it was raining? 

The wet sand sloshed and slid down the sides of his sneakers once he reached the beach, and he was beginning to regret his choice to leave the ranch that morning. A damp chill started to seep through his clothing, which was now soaking. It left him shivering as he walked across the wooden plank that served as a bridge to the other side of the beach.

In the fog that permeated the air between raindrops, Shane could just make out the figure of a man. He stood on the very edge of the island, just shy of the water, and as Shane approached, the man tipped his hat and waved.

“How are ye?” he called out. His sudden, booming voice startled Shane, who stumbled backwards. The strange man laughed. “Easy there, lad. I don’t bite.”

As he regained his bearings and made his way closer to the man, Shane could make out more of his features. The man was old, his face weathered but kind, and he wore a tattered fishing hat coupled with black rubber boots and a blue rain jacket. 

“So, uh, are you the old mariner?” Shane said. He ran his fingers through the wet hair that had started to stick to his forehead. 

“That’s what they call me,” the old mariner said with a hearty laugh. “What can I do for ye?”

“I’m here for the…the mermaid pendant.” Shane paused and looked down at the ground. He traced a line in the sand with his foot. “That’s it’s name, right?”

“Ah, I can see the sparkle in yer eye there, lad,” he said. Shane snapped his head up to stare at the mariner, whose eyes were twinkling with mirth. “Ye must really be in love.”

Shane swallowed, cast his eyes down again and then looked back up with determination. “Yeah,” he said. He held the old man’s gaze with a confidence he was unused to. “I love her more than I’ve ever loved anything in this stupid town.”

The mouth of the old man turned up at one corner in a half-smile. “Lad,” he said. “If ye really thought this town was 'stupid,’ ye wouldn’t be here, would ye?”

Shane blinked a few times, coughed, and then turned his head to the side, avoiding the observant eyes of the mariner. Sure, he’d finally adjusted to the idea of the valley being his home over the last year, but he hadn’t yet warmed to the idea of embracing its traditions and being a part of its rich history. His default had always been to scoff at the silly festivals, to accept them as a fixture in his life solely because of Jas’s desire to go to them. 

But he was here, standing in front a living figure of a Pelican Town legend, wasn’t he? He’d believed in the town stories, too. If only for a brief moment. 

As sheets of rain poured down between himself and the old mariner, Shane slowly smiled and stretched his hand out, palm facing up. 

“I’m ready,” he said. 

The old mariner nodded and revealed his full grin. A gap where one of his front teeth was missing winked at Shane as the mariner reached into his pocket and pulled out a long, blue shell on a string. It dangled in the air as he held it up over Shane’s palm and then dropped it. Shane closed his fingers around the shell. It wasn’t heavy to hold, but he could feel its symbolic weight pressing into the skin.

For now, it was enough to hold it. Someday it would be enough for him to give. Or rather, someday it would be enough for her to accept the pendant.

“Use it wisely,” the old mariner said with a wink.

Shane nodded and slipped the pendant into his pocket, then turned around and began the long walk home. Despite the cold of the rain, Shane felt a warmth at the thought of someday proposing to Rose. He made it about halfway across the wooden plank before he glanced over his shoulder, back towards the island. The mariner had vanished into thin air as if never there to begin with.

Perhaps the valley would never stop surprising him.

* * *

It was a stupid idea, Shane knew, even as he grabbed the flower seeds off the shelf at Pierre’s and slammed them down on the counter. He kept his gaze fixed on smooth wood of the counter’s surface, but he could still see Pierre flash him a smarmy grin out of the corner of his eye. Shane suppressed a gag—dealing with Pierre was hardly his favorite thing in the world to do.

“Flowers, huh?” Pierre said in that way of his, where it seemed like he was trying to sound slick and charming to sell more products. “They for Rose?”

“None of your damn business,” Shane muttered and folded his arms over his chest. He chanced a glance at Pierre, who was now fully grinning, and it made Shane’s blood boil just the slightest bit. The flowers _were_ for Rose, but the point still stood that it was none of the nosy shopkeeper’s damn business.

“Ah, glad to see you haven’t changed too much, Shane,” Pierre said with a laugh as he rang up the flower seeds and handed them to Shane.

What the fuck was that supposed to mean? 

“Yeah, whatever,” Shane said through gritted teeth and snatched the seeds from Pierre. “Thanks.”

When he left the store, the sun had peaked high in the sky, shining down in its mid-afternoon glory. He knew that when he returned to the farm, Rose would have finished the bulk of the day’s work and would be settling in for lunch; she wouldn’t see him plant the flowers. The seeds rattled in the packet as he walked.

He remembered leaving Pierre’s store a little under two years ago with a bouquet of flowers tucked underneath his hoodie. He’d brought them to Rose in the Fall of her first year of the valley. It was the first anniversary of her father’s death and even then, he couldn’t stand the thought of her being sad. That fact hadn’t changed in the time he’d been with her. Now more than ever, he wanted to make her smile. He wanted to do something nice after all the shit he’d put her through.

Once he reached the farm, he rummaged around in Rose’s shed until he found a small gardening shovel and a bag of soil, and took it to the porch. Outside her windowsill sat a long planter, and he filled it with the soil, patting it down until it filled the entire box.

The sun beat down on Shane as he worked, and it wasn’t long until he felt overheated. His pale face turned a deep, raw shade of red that he could see when he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window’s glass. He unzipped his hoodie to drop it on the porch beside him and then reached an arm up to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Yoba, did he hate summer. 

After he dug all the holes for the flowers to go in, he started to carefully place the seeds in them. As he went along, he found a kind of peace in planting the flowers, and he could understand why Rose enjoyed it so much. It felt as though he was finally doing something right for a change—instead of destroying a beautiful thing, like he usually did, he was creating one. 

The window suddenly opened, and there was Rose, poking her head out of the opening. Wisps of hair fell over her face as she leaned over the sill.

“Shane?” she said, forehead scrunched in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“Planting flowers,” Shane answered sheepishly. “I remember you, um, told me about it before. Like what you used to do…for your dad? Grow flowers in your window, I mean. So I thought it might make you happy if I did that for you too. But that’s probably really dumb, thinking about it now.”

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, growing more insecure about his idea. She probably thought it was stupid or didn’t even remember telling him about—

The feeling of her hands gently cupping the sides of his face, her eyes shining bright, and then pulling him in suddenly for a rough kiss drove all the negative thoughts from his mind.

“I love you.” The words rolled gently and beautifully off her tongue, that warm voice like a slow moving river. This time, he wanted to have privilege of hearing it forever. Of hearing those three little words forever.

Streaks of dirt covered her cheeks as he traced his fingers over them. “I love you too,” he said with a grin.

She smiled, and the corners of her eyes crinkled as she placed her hands on top of his. Then she let go and pulled back. “Wait just a moment,” she said, “I’m coming outside.”

As he waited, Shane slid a hand into his hoodie pocket, feeling the ridges of the blue shell and smoothing a finger over the string attached to it. Someday, he thought, but not today. There was still a lot of work left for him to do before their life could really begin.

But he was determined to get there.

The door to the farmhouse opened and out stepped Rose. She came closer and ran her thumbs underneath his eyes. “Your eyes,” she said quietly. “They seem so much clearer these days.”

Shane blushed and stared down at the ground, suddenly bashful. 

“I think…I think things are going to get better from now on,” he said, taking her hands in his.

The sun shone down and cast a glow around Rose that made his breath catch. Then she beamed at him, revealing that smile and those dimples that had charmed him since the day he met her, and his heart felt full at last after so many years of numbness and pain.

“I think so too,” she said and laced their fingers together. They both looked up at the sky and the clouds that dotted its bright blue surface, where hope nestled itself in between their puffy white outlines. 

Just like the flowers in the windowsill, there was nowhere for them to go but up.

**The End.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, the story of Rose and Shane has officially come to a close! It's crazy to think that a small one shot idea I had morphed into an entire series and one of the most rewarding writing projects I've ever had the pleasure of working on. Not only is this the longest story I've ever completed, its also one of the most meaningful to me personally and has been an absolute joy to write.
> 
> Thank you all so so much for your kind words, subs, kudos, and support <3 <3 You were the engine that kept this fic running during the times when I wasn't sure I'd be able to push through until the end. You readers are the lifeblood of fanfic so never stop being amazing and encouraging the authors here 
> 
> If you have any reactions/feedback/comments/questions, I'd love to hear them! Even though the fic is finished, I absolutely love responding to any and all comments so please feel free to leave them. I immensely appreciate all of your readership and hope you enjoyed the story :)


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